What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger
by Sensara
Summary: Lucy was in the wrong place at the wrong time, victim of a desperate V'tosh ka'tur from the Mirror Universe. As doctors try to solve her case, Soval is brought on board, but her assailant is still at large, waiting in the shadows for the right moment to return to her. Rated T for safety; adult themes, starts at episode "Stigma", Season 2.
1. Desperate

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise, nor Star Trek of any kind. Did you honestly think I did? I feel obligated to acknowledge Jamille Shane for her idea of the Syrannite/V'tosh ka'tur divide on Mirror Universe Vulcan. Ma'am, I hope you don't mind me borrowing that idea for a little while.**_

He opened his eyes and saw a blank stretch of wall before him. The floor was made of dull brown stone, and the corridor he was in was less than fifteen feet in length. His head was throbbing, and an attempt to sit up made the world around him spin, forcing him to lean back against the wall.

He passed a hand over his eyes and breathed in against the dizziness that threw him off-kilter, finding that despite the less-than-satisfactory transport down here, he was relatively unharmed. But he frowned in confusion, noticing the distinct lack of guards. And why had he been beamed to a hallway of all places? Was the transporter chief that incompetent?

He turned his head and was going to close his eyes for a moment when he saw a very young Terran woman enter the hallway, her eyes focused on a PADD in her hand. She glanced up at him and stopped mid-stride, and her previously neutral expression turned to one of worry and concern. She ran to his side and knelt down.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice soft, warm, dripping with concern. It wasn't what he would expect from a Terran, even one her age. She had lively hazel eyes and black curly hair that was currently pulled back into a low ponytail. Her skin was lightly tanned and her nose was slim; her lips were pale pink and slightly parted in shock.

"I am...adequate," he murmured, letting a tiny smile grace his lips and warm his eyes. The Terran girl frowned slightly before returning his gesture with a grin of her own. Her already lively eyes glimmered with surprise and happiness, but he could sense the nervousness emanating from her, quivering in the air like heat rising in the desert.

"I was overcome by dizziness for a moment," he explained casually, hoping she didn't know why he was here and turn him over to the guards.

Her eyes clouded with worry again. "Should I go get a Vulcan doctor?" she whispered, half-rising to go fetch one. He was surprised and endeared by her willingness to help him, and he found he did not want her to go. Besides, he needed information. The last few hours before he was transported were still burning in his mind: the assassination attempt on Captain Forrest, the pain booth, his acceptance of his death. So many females had been killed or sold as slaves that on his side of the planet, those who gravitated toward the V'tosh ka'tur interpretation of Surak's teachings, there were so few mates left, and he knew within the year he would be dead anyway. No Terran would ever go near him, and fraternization between non-Terrans was highly restricted as to not encourage rebellion. He had been transported to the outpost at Dekendi III for further questioning, more torture. And now he was sitting in this hallway with this Terran girl; he unintentionally breathed in her scent, then suppressed a gasp. She smelled warm and sweet and spicy, and the scent of her hair made delicious tingles race down his spine.

Suddenly, he remembered that she needed a reply to her question, and he shook his head at her. "A doctor is unnecessary. Please, sit, Ms...?"

"Hardister," she said, slowly sitting down and relaxing her shoulders. "Lucy Hardister. My dad's with the human contingent."

_Human? _That word was barely ever used, and only then as a derogatory term (as if any alien dared say such a thing to a Terran!). And yet she had said it like it was the most natural thing to say.

She frowned slightly at him; her nervousness had increased, and he furrowed his brow for a moment, trying to examine her fear. Even for a Terran, she was easy to read, and after a few seconds, he discovered she did not fear getting caught speaking to him. No, she feared _him. _Amazement clouded his senses until he blinked and let another small grin lift the corners of his mouth.

"Lucy...you have a lovely name, Ms. Hardister."

She blushed and glanced at the floor, pleasure slowly creeping into her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"May I inquire," he said conversationally, sitting up straighter and fully focusing his attention on her, "what are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm going to major in xenobiology when I go to college in two months. My dad got me this textbook," she held up the PADD she had been reading earlier, "and I've been coming down here every day during lunch hour to read, 'cause I never see anyone down here. I've also been going to the open lectures, and the Denobulans have been nice enough to let me shadow them."

His mind was whirring: this Terran girl, who he saw was little older than seventeen, spoke to him with awe and caution he had never heard from her species. She had just informed him that he was most likely at a conference, obviously medical or scientific in nature, and that Terrans, Vulcans and Denobulans were all in attendance. It amazed him that this girl thought highly of the smiling, friendly aliens from Denobula, but what of his people? And what about the outpost?

"Have you seen the Vulcan contingent, Lucy?" he asked, assuming, for the moment, that the transporter chief had simply gotten the coordinates wrong and that he would be handed over to the authorities at any moment. But in the meantime, this Terran was friendly and agreeable, an unexpected but pleasant surprise in this cruel universe.

He called her by her first name automatically, and his intimate mode of address was not lost on her. Surprise flashed across her eyes, followed by confusion, fear, and finally pleasure.

"No," she said slowly. "My dad said to stay out of the Vulcan section."

"Why?" he asked, making sure his voice was collected and calm. She frowned at him.

"Well, you know. Like you guys need a human teenager in your way," she muttered, saying the words _human teenager _with a cold and derogatory voice, as if she had heard the term said to her that way several times and adopted such a manner of speech herself. Had his people coldly dismissed this girl from exploring their section, of learning from them? On who's authority? Did her father not complain? Or perhaps her father feared the Vulcans as much, or more, than his daughter? His mind was whirling with possibilities, and he gazed at Lucy with barely concealed astonishment.

She was staring at the floor; perhaps his silence had unnerved her. His instincts told him to reassure her, to connect with her, lest she leave him here alone or turn him over to the guards. He had to keep her here, keep her close, then, if necessary, make his move at the right moment.

"Why are you studying xenobiology?" he asked, once again focusing his attention on her.

The red flush returned to her cheeks, and he watched in fascination as it spread over the planes of her face and over the curve of her nose. "Well," she said softly, "I've always thought alien biology was fascinating. Dad's always going on about the Vulcan nervous system or Denobulan lymph nodes, and I've decided to look into the subject."

He graced her with an indulgent smile, but only let the corners of his mouth drift upward by a millimeter. "Is this your first time here?" he asked pointedly. She frowned.

"You mean on Dekendi III or at an Inter-Species Medical Conference?"

So the conference was medical in nature, and he was truly on Dekendi III. Was the Terran outpost nearby? And what was the Inter-Species Medical Conference anyway? He had never heard of such a thing. "Both," he replied, raising an eyebrow. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, then opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm new to both. This is my dad's third time at the conference, but neither of us have been to the Dekendi system before."

"And what do you think of the planet? Have you met the inhabitants of this world?"

She grinned. "The planet's lovely and the locals are really friendly. Just yesterday, Dad and I were out to eat at a restaurant, and one of the waiters said I was charming, that I reminded him of his daughter, and he gave us free dessert. They're all so nice."

She spoke as if she didn't expect such a thing, that such kindness from the Dekendi was a pleasant surprise, not anticipated favoritism. What had happened to the cruel and terrible universe he knew? Had some parasite or telepathic influence suddenly made all the Terrans friendly, helpful, compassionate even? Was this conference center on Dekendi III a secret stronghold of unity that the Empire was unaware of? What in the name of Surak was going on?

Lucy seemed to realize they had been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes, and she suddenly frowned. "Are you sure I can't go get a doctor? Do you feel better?"

He gracefully got to his feet and smiled down at her, counting himself incredibly fortunate to have come across her. She had already supplied him with plenty of information, giving it away freely, but he needed answers to bigger questions that he could not ask aloud. In the depths of his soul, he yearned for much more from her than just information. Perhaps, if they were compatible...was such a thing possible between a Terran and a Vulcan?

"I am well, Lucy. If I may?"

He held out his hand to help her to her feet, and she took it without hesitation, the most endearing expression of trust shining in her eyes. Her naivete would be her downfall; how could she be so trusting of him? From whence did this young woman spring? What oasis of love had she fallen from? And how was it that he was so fortunate to have the universe bless him with such a loving little lamb? Beautiful, ignorant, lovely Lucy! Would it not be logical to protect her from her own innocence? To teach her the truth of things and show her the universe for what it was? Such a lovely, blushing blossom needed a strong man to care for her, cultivate her beauty and talent, turn her into the lovely flower she would soon become. But first, there were things he needed to know.

He pulled her to her feet and used her momentum to draw her close. With a gentle shove, she was up against the wall, and he crushed her to it before she could move. Her confused gasp was a delight to his ears, and he offered her a gentle smile as he raised his right hand to her face; he touched his thumb to her chin, his forefinger to the top of her cheek, and his middle finger to her temple. Her warm, hazel eyes blew wide with fear, and he couldn't help but stroke his left hand down her arm, soothing her. His lips twitched further upward.

"This will be much easier on us both if you relax, Lucy," he purred, raising his left hand to cup her cheek. "I do not wish to harm you."

Despite his warning, she struggled valiantly, forcing him to press his body more firmly to hers, securing her against the wall. He held her fast with ease, and her struggle was for naught. He leaned in close.

"My mind to your mind," he whispered, gazing deeply into her fearful eyes. "Our thoughts are merging..." Indeed, it was as if a window had been opened before him, letting golden light shine down into all that he was. He eagerly moved toward that window of light and touched her mind. It was hard to enter at first, as she was still struggling, resisting, and it felt as if a thin wall of water separated him from the light. But he shoved through it and was dimly aware that a gasp had escaped her. He ignored it and stepped over the low threshold into her thoughts, and then he began to sift.

"Our minds are one," he breathed. She let out a pitiful whimper, and he responded by gently caressing her waist and hips.

Every thought, every memory was like a string of golden light, and when he touched each one with his essence, they glowed, and images flashed before his eyes: the first birthday party she remembered, the last day of school in the third grade, her brother at a sporting event, her and her mother walking along a beach, hand in hand.

Her childhood was pleasant, but did not tell him anything of use. But as he moved on, one memory caught his interest. She was in the fifth grade, and she was watching a documentary on First Contact. He pressed forward to examine the memory more closely, and there was a flash of light before he saw himself sitting in a classroom of children. The room was dark but for the projector and the flashing screen. He watched in fascination as Vulcan anthropologists were interviewed alongside Terrans, and the scenes before his eyes did not match up with the world he knew. First Contact with the Terrans, according to the film, was peaceful, beneficial to the human race, and he watched them expand their knowledge and their technology with the help of his people. The Vulcans were not slaves, no...they were _counselors_, teachers, mentors. The _Vulcans _had the upper hand in her memories, not the Terrans.

Transfixed, he pulled away from the memory and examined others: a small section of xenobiology in her science class in freshman year of high school, prompting a yearning for more knowledge; meeting her first Vulcan that summer, a visiting doctor in the clinic her father worked in; reading a textbook on Vulcan physiology; watching a informational video on Denobulans; watching her father with envy as he left for his second Inter-Species Medical Conference her junior year in high school.

She was shaking now, but he didn't want to break the connection with her to check on her physical condition. He was confident she'd recover from this, and after all, he did give her fair warning not to struggle. She chose not to heed him, and that would only make things harder on her. A moment's concern about Pa'nar Syndrome was quickly cast aside; the disease was only contagious among Vulcans and was easily cured by an experienced melder. It was illogical to worry about her, and he told himself again that she would be fine. He continued to sift, looking for anything of worth, anything to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating. How could such a world be possible, where Vulcans teach Terrans the secrets to space flight, where Vulcans lead Terrans on a journey of exploration, not conquest, where Vulcans and Terrans and Denobulans and other species are considered equals? The universe had blessed him beyond measure!

A memory caught his interest, a fairly recent one, only about a year old. It wasn't the situation that intrigued him, rather the emotions behind it. Lucy was meeting another Vulcan at her father's workplace, this visitor much younger than her first, an attractive male with dark brown hair and warm brown eyes, lean and tall, but with muscles in all the right places. Her father had informed the Vulcan that Lucy held an interest in xenobiology, but her interest that day was in a much more...intimate form of the science she wanted to study. He searched her thoughts from the occasion, a warm spring of lust rising in his chest as he watched the young Vulcan through her eyes, felt the heat pool at her thighs as the male unexpectedly glanced her way, watched her match his gaze with a heated one of her own. Lucy was very attracted to the man, and although she had never realized it, the male was intrigued by her as well. He could see it in the man's eyes, the curiosity, the thrill of mystery, the beginnings of instinctual lust. The thought made his blood roil; no man would look at her with those emotions behind his eyes! Lucy was his, his alone!

She had gasped again when he accessed that memory, and he took heed this time, pulling back enough to gauge her emotional reactions. She was still terrified, and furthermore she was embarrassed that he had found an instance of her lust. But did she not see how experiencing the carnal pleasures of desire was freedom in and of itself? Could she not feel the thrill, the excitement of imagining what might happen next, that lust for another may lead to the most exquisite fulfillment known to humanoids? He pulled away completely, having completed his search for answers. He was ready to implement the next step of his plan.

Her tanned skin was pale now, her waxen cheeks tear-stained and her eyes wide and glistening with more unshed tears. He gently brushed away the wetness shimmering on her soft skin, and he smiled at her, pleased with the essence of her that still lingered with him, eager to let her feel all that was him. He quickly wrapped an arm around her when he felt her knees begin to weaken, and he gently pressed her against the wall, his weight holding her steady.

She was trembling, but his prize was far beyond resisting him now. He quickly brushed his lips against hers and spoke to her in a low, soothing voice.

"Again, I must ask you to relax, Lucy. Don't worry, this won't hurt."

He had not removed his fingers from her psi points, and he shifted them only slightly before he made his next move. Slowly, as to not hurt her (she was only Terran after all; their nervous systems were more fragile than Vulcans), he poured his essence into her, let his own ruddy light intertwine with her golden threads of thought and memory. It made a beautiful display, and he paused for a moment to admire the aesthetics of their minds becoming joined. He whispered the ancient words to her and smiled to himself as she whispered them back, as the words were drawn from her like blood from a vein. Deep into her psyche he cast himself and his being, and once he felt himself tethered and secured, he withdrew and gazed down at her in pure satisfaction. So Vulcans and Terrans were more compatible than the Empire would have them believe.

Her eyes were closed now, and she was panting, perhaps on the verge of hyperventilation. He quickly raised his hand and tried to project calm into her, and it seemed to have the desired effect. Her breathing eased and she relaxed against him, collapsing into his chest. It felt so right to feel her pliant body melt into his, and he gently lowered her to the floor so she could recover.

She was barely maintaining consciousness, her eyes fluttering open every once and a while, only to droop after a few seconds. Her color was returning slowly but surely, and he stroked her cheek with two fingers, relishing the foreign coolness beneath the warmth of his hand. His Lucy, his _a'duna_, parted and never parted, she who was to be his wife! The thought enthralled him, and he watched in amazement as she leaned into his hand in her half-awakened state.

But his joy was short lived as he heard voices and footsteps approaching. His search of her mind had informed him that his clothing would stick out at this conference; surely his people of this universe would question his attire. He had been stripped of his Starfleet jumper, and he had no formal robes nor any suit to blend in with the Vulcans here. If his attire did not raise eyebrows, him carrying an unconscious woman would certainly cause the authorities to apprehend them.

Even as apprehension at getting caught here clouded the edges of his mind, he could not deny the joy of his new-found freedom. He was no longer a slave, and with a little ingenuity and cunning, he could escape this world and make a life anywhere in the universe. And Lucy...his Lucy would be at his side, his lovely, vulnerable, innocent little _a'duna_. Already he was relishing the feel of her in the back of his mind, and he found her essence intriguing. He looked forward to exploring her, and instead of feeling dread at his impending _pon farr_, he instead felt excitement.

But the voices were getting closer, and looking around at the hallway, he spied a door that presumably led to the outside, if the smell of fresh air was any indication. He quickly glanced at Lucy, still leaning heavily against the wall, and he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Forgive me for abandoning you, _a'duna_, but I must leave. However, I will not be parted from you long. I will return for you, and in the meantime, I will find you in your dreams."

He kissed her swiftly on the lips and hoped that she received the care she deserved, the attention he could not bestow on her at the moment. But one day soon...

He ran to the door and quietly exited the building, slipping into the shadows of the deepening afternoon, escaping into the oblivious crowd.


	2. Comatose

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to T'Sara, snapeissexy and 09sasha for reviewing.**_

Dr. Phlox grinned widely at his Denobulan colleague at the news that he had found a second wife and they were to be married in two months. Dr. Zareel had been here a week before the conference started to help the Denobulans set up their section and organize everyone's schedules for lectures and meetings, and he had told Phlox about a little-used elevator in a corner of the first level; he and his companion had been using the elevator to avoid the general flow of traffic. It was a handy shortcut, and even more pleasant about the route Zareel took from the dining hall to the elevator was seeing the eager young human woman who was shadowing them at this conference. She usually studied her textbook in a little-used hallway in this quiet corner of the conference building, and he made an effort to stop and greet her when he saw her.

"I think you'll find Lucy Hardister a delightful young woman," Zareel assured his colleague. "You've worked with humans for several years now. Are they all so determined and eager?"

Phlox chuckled. "Most of the humans I have met are determined and eager to reach their goals. And although they are new to the interstellar community, I think they'll turn out to be quite an influence on the quadrant. They are a wonderful race," he agreed, smiling to himself at the thought of the _Enterprise _crew, moving forward with their mission despite every conceivable setback.

Zareel smiled as well and looked toward the hallway where he usually saw his little human shadow. But when he came to the mouth of the corridor and looked down the hall, the smile slipped from his face and was replaced by an expression of shock. Phlox came to his side when he noticed his expression change, and he saw a young woman slumped against the wall, her complexion pale, her eyes firmly closed.

"Lucy!" Zareel called, running forward to her side and taking her gently into his arms. "Ms. Hardister? Can you hear me?"

Phlox was with them in another moment, the doctor in him shoving aside all else, and he checked her pulse manually, not having found the need to bring any medical equipment down from _Enterprise _with him.

"Her pulse is steady," Phlox said to his colleague, "and her breathing is normal. You said her father is with the human contingent?"

Zareel nodded and checked the navy blue bracelet around Lucy's wrist. As she was considered a minor by the humans, she was required to wear the accessory to identify what contingent she was attached to and who was responsible for her. In this case, that was her father.

"Dr. Gabriel Hardister. Come, the human contingent is next door to ours."

He lifted the young woman and headed toward the elevator, Phlox matching his pace with ease. The Denobulans were glad this area of the center was practically deserted, as it enabled them to keep Lucy's condition private. Once the door to the elevator was closed, Phlox continued as best he could with his manual examination. He tried calling her name, but she did not move. With his long, clever fingers, he checked her pulse again, just to be sure, and he felt it beneath his fingers, steady as a beating drum. He gently laid his hand to her forehead and frowned at the cold, clammy feel of her pale flesh. Phlox was confused now and eager to get to the human section so they could solve this mystery. He took her hand in his and pinched her hard, and although the skin beneath his fingers turned red, she made no sign that the pain affected her.

The elevator glided to a smooth stop, and the two Denobulans hurried out, Zareel making sure Lucy's head didn't hit the entrance. Phlox almost wanted to run, but he forced himself to walk calmly to the door to the human section and hold it open for his colleague.

A middle-aged woman was seated in the well-lit, cheerful antechamber, but she leaped to her feet when she saw who Zareel was holding. She bid them to wait a moment and ran to fetch the doctors, and soon she returned, two male human doctors at her heels.

"Is either of you Gabriel Hardister?" Phlox said quickly. The men shook their heads.

"No, he left an hour ago to attend a lecture in auditorium five," the woman said quickly, checking a PADD that presumably displayed the master schedule.

"Shall I fetch him for you?" Phlox offered. "This is his daughter, after all."

"No, I'll go," said the woman, and she hurried out the door. The men introduced themselves as Dr. Steward and Dr. Morris, and they put Lucy into a spare office until her father arrived. Although this was a medical conference, the best medical facility they had in the building was the hospital wing on the ground floor, which was only equipped to deal with minor injuries and maladies. It certainly wasn't outfitted for a patient who was borderline comatose, and they discussed transferring Lucy to a hospital not too far from the conference center. It wasn't until Phlox suggested transferring the girl to _Enterprise _for the time being that the doctors seemed to relax. He assured them that he had been serving among humans for several years, and the doctors were relieved to know there was a well-equipped sickbay in orbit on a human vessel.

Her father arrived shortly afterward, practically jogging into the office to see his daughter. Unlike his child, the man had light sandy blonde hair and gray eyes, and he was stout and hardy while Lucy was lithe and thin. He knelt by Lucy's side and brushed her abundant curls out of her face.

"Lucy," he whispered, his voice cracking in his panic. Morris laid a hand on Hardister's shoulder. The man turned towards the Denobulans and set his jaw.

"Do you know what happened to her?" he asked, his voice higher than usual. The human doctors exchanged a glance, but the Denobulans shook their heads.

"We saw her in the corridor she likes to study in," Zareel offered. "She was unconscious when we found her."

Hardister blinked rapidly and turned back to his daughter. "Why was she alone?"

"She was always in that corridor alone," Zareel continued. "No one goes down there."

The man frowned and narrowed his eyes at the Denobulan. "Did she tell you no one goes down there?"

Zareel frowned at Hardister, but nodded. "I asked her why I didn't see her in the dining hall for the midday meal. She said she always goes down to an abandoned corridor to study the textbook you gave her."

Phlox shared an uneasy glance with Dr. Morris, but Hardister's expression hardened further. "Really?" he said coldly. "And have you seen my daughter every day?"

Dr. Steward squeezed the man's shoulder with a vice-like grip. "Gabriel," he said softly, his voice as cold as Hardister's, "are you thinking what I think you're thinking? If so, you can stop right now. The Denobulans would never hurt your daughter. I doubt they'd hurt a fly."

"Besides," Morris offered, "how would assault lead to a coma? She wasn't bleeding when Phlox and Zareel brought her in. We'd know if something like that happened."

Zareel and Phlox shared another glance, the former's eyes welling with pain. Phlox too was disturbed at the thought of anyone taking advantage of the young human, and although Morris quickly dismissed assault, Phlox wasn't ruling anything out at this point. Lucy, though young, was becoming a woman, and had mostly developed physically into the adult she would become. It sickened him to think of it, but he could understand her father's fear that Lucy had been attacked so barbarically. Other than her beautiful curls, her lithe figure was slightly rounded at the hips and bust, and he could see the lovely dip of her waist and the luscious thickness of her thighs. To the masculine mind, she was an arresting sight, and combined with the eagerness Zareel had described to him, he could see why the perverse would find her a tempting target.

Morris brought Phlox back to reality when he told Hardister their plan, and the doctor seemed agreeable to their arrangement. So Phlox led Lucy's father to the door and opened it for the human doctor.

"I'm coming with you to _Enterprise_," he said firmly, shifting his daughter's weight.

"I'll contact Captain Archer and inform him."

Zareel caught up with the pair and fell in step with Phlox. "Is there anything you needed to do on the surface?" he asked in Denobulan. Phlox sighed.

"Actually," he replied, echoing his colleague's language choice, "I had made an appointment with the Vulcans to discuss some medical data I was hoping to obtain. Unfortunately, due to this emergency, I cannot come to my appointment. If you could go to the Vulcans, explain the situation and offer my apologies..."

"Of course," Zareel said quietly, and he walked away toward one of the flyovers toward the elevators. Phlox and Hardister continued on toward the transport station, ignoring the obvious stares they were receiving. Phlox replied to all inquiries, assuring those who were concerned for Lucy that she would be fine and the situation was under control. When they reached his shuttle and set course for _Enterprise_, Phlox filled Hardister in on his brief examination of his daughter.

"I'll confirm her as comatose if she doesn't wake up in six hours," he said. Hardister paled slightly. "She was unresponsive to all stimuli, but I'll know more when she's in sickbay. I don't think the captain will mind you staying with your daughter."

"Thank you, doctor," the man said, running a hand over his daughter's forehead. "It looks like her color is coming back, though," he murmured, almost to himself.

"That's a good thing," Phlox said cheerfully, trying to be optimistic. Indeed, he was sure this incident would be over soon and Lucy would be back to normal within a few days. He wouldn't say anything to her father in case he was wrong, but humans were a hardy and determined species, and Lucy was a great example of those attributes. She would be fine.

Phlox landed the shuttle neatly in _Enterprise's _shuttle bay, then led Hardister to sickbay, where Captain Archer was waiting.

"What happened, doctor?" the captain asked the Denobulan. Phlox gestured to his examination table and let Hardister put his daughter down before answering.

"We, that is a colleague and I, found Ms. Hardister in a corridor down at the conference center. She was unconscious and is nearly comatose, and although Dekendi III has perfectly adequate medical facilities, I thought _Enterprise _would be a better choice. I've served among humans for several years, and I will admit, I want to take on this case for Dr. Zareel's sake. He's quite fond of your daughter, Dr. Hardister. He said she reminds him of his own daughter. He has one near that age, and I assure you, he would never dream of using your daughter in such a callous manner."

Hardister stared at the floor a moment. "I overreacted, doctor. It was wrong of me."

"Zareel understands that. Now, if you will hand me the medical tricorder, I'll start recording some data."

There was not much else Lucy's father could do while Phlox ran his scans but to wait. Though most of humanity had cast off their beliefs in an omnipotent being, Hardister found himself silently praying that his daughter, his little Lucy, would be all right.

…

Zareel hurried over the flyover and entered the next available elevator headed for the third level of the conference center. Phlox didn't quite understand how much of a favor he was doing for the young Denobulan by taking care of Lucy; he had grown quite fond of the small human during the last few days. He hardly got to see his children, what with the Inter-Species Medical assignments (he had spent three years already on Coridan), and although Denobulans were renowned for their patience, the absence of his children was burdensome. And then had come this eager little human with her long curly hair (like his dear little Haxel's, only black) and the most endearing giggle. She laughed often and it cheered him, though in the back of his mind he knew she would have to take some things seriously. Perhaps she was a bit immature and naïve, but from what he could tell, her childhood had been pleasant yet sheltered. Lucy was obviously the apple of her father's eye, and it saddened Zareel that her father thought so ill of him to accuse him of raping his daughter. The thought of doing such a thing to poor little Lucy was horrendous, disgusting! He hurried to the Vulcans' section.

Before entering, or even approaching the door, Zareel stopped and controlled his emotions. He was worried about Lucy, but he knew enough about Vulcans that showing too much emotion would offend them, and he felt it best to keep a cordial relationship with those who had initiated this conference, this exchange. It wasn't as if this conference rested on his behavior, but who didn't want to make a good impression?

He was greeted by a young, dark-haired aide wearing the same clean suits that the Vulcan contingent were known for, and the Denobulan bowed his head curtly before approaching the young Vulcan.

"I have a message for your head physicians," Zareel said quietly. The aide nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Dr. Phlox had a meeting with them scheduled sometime today. Unfortunately, an emergency has arisen and he won't be able to make it."

The aide nodded. "I will pass along the message. Though, I don't mean to pry, but what is the nature of this emergency?"

Zareel frowned, but reasoned that the Vulcans were working with the Dekendi to provide most of the security for the conference. If Lucy had been attacked...

"One of the human doctors brought along his daughter. The young lady has an interest in xenobiology and was shadowing members of my contingent, but we found her unconscious in an empty corridor this afternoon."

This caught the aide's attention, and he stood straighter. "Where is the young lady now?"

"On _Enterprise_," Zareel replied. "Phlox took on her case, and is therefore unable to attend his appointment."

The aide bid him wait a moment and walked away down a hall, then returned shortly with a PADD in hand. "Our communications records report that he requested some medical data. Would you like me to fetch the doctors and have them review his request?"

The Denobulan raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure Phlox would appreciate that."

The young Vulcan nodded and retreated down a hallway, and Zareel clasped his hands behind his back and breathed in and out, trying to calm down. His thoughts kept drifting to Lucy, to her pale face and her clammy skin, the dead weight of her in his arms. He sighed and gazed at one of the many lit candles around the antechamber, brainstorming possible causes for Lucy's coma. The minute he was done here, he would contact _Enterprise _and ask Phlox for an update on her condition, then he would have to get some work done. Yes, a few good hours of hard work would ease his worries.

The aide returned with three Vulcans at his heels, and Zareel straightened and offered them a tiny smile. They all nodded to him in greeting, and the eldest, a tall, sober man with gray hair, spoke.

"Are you going to be in contact with Doctor Phlox today, doctor?"

Zareel nodded. "As soon as I finish here."

The man nodded. "You may tell him that we will contact him aboard his ship. We wish to discuss his request."

Again, the Denobulan nodded. "Is there anything else?"

The elder Vulcan flared his nostrils slightly. "Please tell us about this young lady you spoke of. How is she?"

Zareel couldn't suppress a sigh. "I don't know, but Phlox is treating her now."

"Veral told us as much. We would like to visit Phlox aboard _Enterprise _to discuss the medical data with him, if that is agreeable. Perhaps, while we are there, we could assist him with this young woman."

"Phlox is more than capable of handling this case-"

"Doctor Oratt meant no insult to Phlox's talents, doctor," another doctor said, a older man, younger than Oratt, but with dark gray hair. "We are simply curious. This is, after all, a conference that encourages the study of xenobiology and interstellar camaraderie in the medical sciences."

Zareel allowed himself a small smile. "I'll pass on the message. If there's nothing else, I am eager to contact Phlox for an update on her."

"May I come with you?" asked the youngest doctor, a tall man with dark brown hair and almost golden-brown eyes.

The Denobulan looked to the older Vulcans, who nodded their consent. With the Vulcan at his heels, Zareel strode quickly out of the room and toward the elevators. He did not turn to the young Vulcan until they were alone in the lift and moving down toward the second floor.

"I'm sorry," Zareel muttered. "I'm so eager to hear this update that I'm forgetting my manners. I'm Doctor Zareel."

The young doctor nodded. "Doctor Yuris. What do you know about this young woman's condition?"

Zareel sighed. "I've told you most of what I know. Phlox will be able to determine more than I can right now."

Yuris was silent for a moment. "You are worried about her."

Zareel swallowed. "She reminds me of my daughter, Haxel...do you have children, doctor?"

"No," the young Vulcan said quietly. "Though I understand your concern."

The elevator stopped at the second level, and Zareel and Yuris beat a hasty path toward the Denobulan section. Though before they took five steps away from the flyover, Dr. Morris came out of the human section called out for Zareel to stop. The Denobulan turned and waited for the human to approach; the man looked uncomfortable.

"Look," he said quietly, "I'm sure Doctor Hardister didn't mean anything he said. He's distraught, I mean, this is his daughter, and he wasn't there to help her..."

He trailed off, but Zareel offered him a sympathetic smile. "I understand, and for all I know, I might have been liable to react the same way. Forgive me, Yuris, but this is Doctor Morris. And this, doctor, is Doctor Yuris, with the Vulcan contingent. He wanted to come with me to get an update on Lucy's condition."

Morris' face crinkled in a wan smile. "Mind if I tag along?"

Zareel nodded and led the two doctors to the Denobulan section, then down the hallway to his personal office. He sank into his chair and gestured to the two chairs opposite his desk. The communication device was behind him, and he swiveled around and contacted _Enterprise_, eventually reaching Phlox in sickbay.

The older Denobulan's blue eyes brightened when he saw his colleague, and they flicked up to find Zareel's companions and further brightened with curiosity.

"I know what you're going to ask, but I don't know much yet. But if I may inquire, who is our Vulcan visitor?"

"This is Doctor Yuris," Zareel explained. "The Vulcans have expressed interest in Lucy's case, and I guess we have no choice but to divulge the details. They'll be visiting you at some point to discuss that medical data you requested."

Phlox frowned, and Zareel raised his eyebrows at Morris' irritated tone. "No offense, doctor, but it's none of the Vulcans' business. This patient is human," Morris nearly growled.

"My superiors simply wish to help her in any way they can, and to inspire inter-species camaraderie," Yuris replied, though Zareel thought he could hear a note of apology in his voice.

Phlox sighed and glared at his monitor for a moment. "I've ruled out sexual assault, but then, that was highly unlikely in the first place."

"Did her father insist on you checking that?" Morris asked incredulously. Phlox shook his head.

"No, I did. I'd rather not rule anything out, but I must admit, I was relieved to see a negative on that test."

Zareel heard Morris sigh behind him, almost with relief, and his heart was a tad lighter at that news. "Anything else you can tell us?"

Phlox paused before answering. "From what I can determine, she's exhibiting all the signs of neurological trauma, but it's nothing like I've seen. I'll have to run some more detailed scans, but her coma may have been due to an interruption of neuro-electric signals somewhere in her cortex. I can't determine where at the moment, but I'm setting up my equipment now. Zareel, did the Vulcans say anything more?"

He shook his head. "No, you've heard everything. I believe they want to come on board _Enterprise_," he paused and turned to Yuris for confirmation, who nodded, "though when, I'm not sure. They'll be in contact with you, Phlox."

The Denobulan acknowledged him and was about to sign off when they heard a voice from Phlox's end.

"Wait," Dr. Hardister said, coming into the frame. "Doctor Zareel?" he asked, focusing on the younger Denobulan, the human's expression contrite. Zareel nodded.

"Yes, doctor, is there something you wanted to know?"

Hardister shook his head. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior. It was...wrong of me to accuse you like that. Thank you for taking care of my daughter."

Zareel couldn't help but smile, and he bowed his head in acceptance. "Apology accepted, doctor. Now, if there's nothing else, I fear I have work to do."

Morris murmured in agreement, and the connection was terminated. The human doctor and the Denobulan frowned at each other, but Zareel saw out of the corner of his eye that Yuris was staring at the ground, looking pensive.

"What is it, doctor?" the Denobulan asked. Yuris looked up.

"I'm not entirely certain at the moment. I'll do some research into what Phlox found."

Morris smiled. "We'd appreciate it. Now, doctors, if you'll excuse me..."

He nodded to them both and exited Zareel's office, but Yuris stayed a moment.

"When you found her...did she react to your touch in any way?"

Zareel frowned. "She was completely unconscious when we found her."

Yuris nodded, and the young Denobulan could have sworn that he heard a quiet sigh from the Vulcan.

"Very well," Yuris said, almost dejectedly. "It was foolish to suspect it..."

Zareel furrowed his brow. "What do you suspect, doctor?"

Yuris shook his head. "As I said, it was an illogical assumption. Will you be coming aboard _Enterprise_?"

"I hope so," Zareel said quietly. "She's been shadowing us for three days now. Dr. Hardister arrived two days before the conference started. She's such a delightful young woman..."

He swallowed thickly again and sighed. "With any luck, she'll be fine in no time. Phlox has incredible talent and resourcefulness."

Yuris nodded and took his leave, but Zareel sat in his chair a few minutes more, pondering this sad situation.


	3. Suspicious

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Just a Crazy-Man, dettaarsvenska, and 09sasha for reviewing. To the anonymous reviewer, Yuris suspects, and hold your horses on Soval. I'm getting there, ok?**_

_**And there is a section down below that mentions an adult matter. Just a fair warning.**_

The day passed and Phlox had still heard nothing from the Vulcan contingent. Yuris had confirmed that they would be visiting him sometime soon, but he had expected them that day. The conference was in full swing, but Phlox stayed on board _Enterprise, _running scans on Lucy and trying to track down where the neuro-electric interruptions had occurred. The initial scan had barely picked them up, and it wasn't until very late that afternoon that he found the anomalies weren't interruptions, but simply an unknown form of stimulation, definitely something he had never seen.

His thoughts drifted to Yuris and the transmission with Dr. Zareel, to the look on the young Vulcan's face when Phlox had mentioned the possible cause of Lucy's coma, the confusion in Yuris' eyes diffusing with comprehension. So he had contacted Yuris about this change of diagnosis, but the Vulcan didn't offer any information. He only requested to come aboard _Enterprise _when the other Vulcan doctors did, and Phlox could hardly refuse him. Although Oratt and Strom professed interest in Lucy's case, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of them, and they hadn't bothered to even send him a written message indicating when they would arrive.

In the meantime, he tended to Lucy, with her father always hovering in the background. Phlox assured him over and over that his daughter showed strong signs of waking from her coma very soon. Dr. Hardister slept on the biobed next to his daughter's, never leaving her side except to take bathroom breaks. Finally Phlox sent him away to eat and get cleaned up, because he hadn't seen Hardister eat more than two bites of whatever Phlox had sent to sickbay for him.

It was with a dejected and defeated expression that Hardister finally contacted his wife that evening to appraise her of the situation. Phlox sighed to himself as he watched Lucy's mother start to cry. It was Hardister who had to assure his wife that everything would be fine, that Lucy would be ok, and although the man put on a brave face, Phlox could see: behind his eyes, Gabriel Hardister was crumbling inside.

The relief Phlox needed from this sad situation finally came that night, when the Vulcans finally contacted _Enterprise, _and Phlox told Oratt that he would like information on Pa'nar Syndrome for a Denobulan colleague who couldn't come to the conference. He went so far as to say that Pa'nar Syndrome had a similar pathology to thymic sclerosis, but he avoided divulging details about the fictional disease. The Vulcans said they would meet him the next morning, and offered to look over Lucy, no doubt to add their own opinion. Phlox acknowledged their appointment and their request, then went back to work, trying to avoid Hardister's confused stare.

…

Oratt terminated the viewscreen and leaned back in his chair, his eyes straying to Strom, who was sitting in a chair beside the lead physician's desk. His colleague's blue eyes were clouded with thought, and when his piercing gaze found Oratt's brown eyes, the senior Vulcan raised an eyebrow. The corner of Strom's thin mouth lifted ever so slightly.

"Oratt, you know as well as I do that the High Command would never let us divulge what little research we've done on that disease."

He nodded and let out a long, measured breath through his nose. "I am curious, though...why does he need the research?"

"You heard him say it's for a Denobulan colleague," Strom offered with a frown, but Oratt held up a hand.

"I have read several texts concerning Denobulan diseases, and I have never read anything about thymic sclerosis."

Strom raised an eyebrow. "You believe he's lying to us?"

Oratt nodded. "But his motivation still escapes me."

The blue-eyed Vulcan next to Oratt's desk was quiet for several seconds. "Is he aware of the cultural..." Strom trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"The stigma surrounding Pa'nar Syndrome? Or the abhorrent nature of those capable of transmitting it? I am not sure, but I believe the answer is no."

For several minutes, the two sat in silence until the senior physician spoke again. "He's serving on an Earth vessel."

Strom looked confused. "Yes, he established that."

The elder Vulcan raised his eyebrows. "Check the crew compliment."

The younger of the pair glanced down at his PADD and accessed the Vulcan-Human database and scanned it, and his expression turned from one of confusion to one of triumph. "There's a Vulcan on board. She was assigned to him by the High Command. Her name is T'Pol."

Oratt nodded in satisfaction. "We will pay T'Pol a visit whilst on _Enterprise_. Is Yuris prepared to leave in the morning or is he otherwise occupied?"

Strom stood. "I'll inquire for you, if I may."

Oratt nodded again, dismissing the younger Vulcan, and Strom walked out of Oratt's office. The elder Vulcan breathed in again and shook his head minutely from side to side, then turned back to his work.

…

Yuris stared at the PADD containing all of Phlox's information, and he closed his eyes briefly. The Denobulan had reviewed his scans that morning and relayed the new information to Yuris, and the young Vulcan appreciated that Phlox wanted to keep him up to date on Lucy's condition. But the new information made his heart beat in an unsettling manner, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

_Unknown stimulation_, Phlox had said. But Yuris had seen the scans and the data, and if he didn't know better he would say it was...but no, Vulcans and humans couldn't...could they? And how could the perpetrator have gotten into the conference? The Dekendi were friendly, but they took the Vulcans' initiative when it came to security: the more, the better. It was logical to take every precaution, to guard every entrance to the convention center, lest unwanted solicitors bother the doctors, or worse, criminals steal medical data for their own twisted interests.

And to add to his confusion, if his suspicions were correct, then the perpetrator had to be Vulcan. And Yuris knew for a fact that he was the only member of the minority present at this conference. His kind hid themselves well, but the minority knew the futility of lying and tended not to lie; there were times when Yuris questioned just how his people had descended to this level. Melders like him were little more than outcasts, thrown from Vulcan society without any thought to morality or compassion. No, according to the High Command, they deserved no such treatment. The sooner they were off the planet or at least outcast from society, the better.

He was interrupted from his musings when someone knocked on his door. He called for them to enter and stood when Strom walked in the room.

"Oratt wants to make sure you are prepared to leave with us first thing in the morning."

Yuris raised an eyebrow. "We are going to _Enterprise_?"

Strom nodded. "There is a Vulcan crewmember on board, and Dr. Phlox, as you know, has requested data regarding Pa'nar Syndrome. And of course, we will inquire into the human girl's case."

Yuris sat back down and glanced over the data Phlox had given him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Strom step forward and sit down in the visitor's chair across from Yuris, but the younger Vulcan only glanced up once. It didn't surprise him that Strom had a PADD in hand, now in his lap.

"You do not approve?" the older Vulcan said softly.

Yuris sighed. "My opinion is irrelevant, Strom."

The older Vulcan furrowed his brow. "Not to me. You have talent, Yuris, and insight that I do not have."

The younger doctor glanced up again and noted the sincerity in Strom's eyes, and Yuris could feel the slight tension in his face ease. "I've received some data from Phlox regarding Lucy's condition, but it has left me more confounded than ever."

"How so?" Strom said, looking intrigued. The younger Vulcan paused for a moment.

"Strom...do you think a member of the minority could meld with a human?"

Yuris watched his colleague's face turn first to confusion, then to disgust, then fade to a neutral expression.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked. Yuris was saddened by Strom's reaction and uncertain if he should continue. But Strom's eyes drifted to the PADD in Yuris' hand.

"You have not answered my question," the older Vulcan pressed.

Would he even understand? Would he disagree with his assessment? Yuris chose to trust his colleague and handed him the PADD. Strom glanced over it and raised an eyebrow.

"It says here _unknown stimulation_...and yet you suspect a mind-meld?" Strom's tone was incredulous.

"Phlox originally thought he found interruptions in Lucy's mid-brain. But perhaps it was imprudent to conclude that she had participated in a meld."

Strom's eyes raked over the PADD again. "I doubt melders could affect humans. At least _they_ have been spared this, and Pa'nar Syndrome."

The older Vulcan was still looking at the data, so he missed the note of displeasure that flashed across Yuris' eyes.

"But Ms. Hardister's case is not our main priority right now," Strom continued. "We need to confirm that T'Pol has the Syndrome, or deny it. We would have to acquire a sample of her DNA..."

He trailed off, once again glancing down at the PADD in his hand, then quickly handed the item to Yuris. He nodded to the younger Vulcan, then exited the office without another word.

The melder stared at the now-empty chair, wondering if he had just made things worse for _Enterprise's _science officer.

…

He cradled the now cold mug of tea in his warm hands, knowing very well that he did not intend to drink it. He could hardly feel Lucy there in his mind, but he had been so sure when he had bonded with her...and now she may never wake again? Comatose and neurologically traumatized? What had he done?

He breathed in a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm him. He could feel the anger, the frustration, the self-loathing roiling in his blood, seething beneath his skin. He looked down at the cold tea in his hands, then with a furious roar, threw the teacup against the opposite wall. The porcelain shattered into miniscule pieces, and the deep red brew stained the wall, the color reminding him of the sands of his home. Of Lucy's blood.

With an exhausted sigh, he collapsed back onto the bed, one arm casually bent over his head, the other resting on his abdomen. He needed to meditate...he needed to reach out to Lucy. The second option appealed to him much more than the first, and he let out a huff of breath and closed his eyes. He accessed the bond, felt it come to life on his end, tingling, burning, a string of light, a burning wick that at any second could become a deadly blaze...he smiled at the excitement, the contentment it brought him.

The lights of the motel room were dim, a subdued, yet icy blue light that reminded him of the weak sun that touched Andoria. The bed beneath him was fairly comfortable, softer than he was used to, and higher off the ground. But his mind was still tumultuous, his thoughts focused yet frenzied. Where was Lucy now? Had the people at the conference been able to help her? Was she at the conference center still or at a hospital here on Dekendi III? Or was she already on Earth?

He dismissed the last thought easily; he could still feel her closeness. He was no longer in the capital, but in an outlying city, far enough to avoid capture or suspicion, but close enough to know when Lucy would be moved.

His thoughts drifted back to the last few minutes of their encounter, after he had established the bond and helped her to the floor. He concentrated on the voices that had intruded on the moment...were they Vulcan?

He could almost feel himself drift into a meditative state as he contemplated the memory. After several minutes of intense concentration, the answer came to him: the voices he had heard were too warm, too buoyant and bubbly to be Vulcan. He guessed they were Denobulan.

So Lucy had (hopefully) been rescued by the intruders (considering everyone here was much more friendly and cooperative than in his universe, he suspected Lucy had been attended to immediately), but that didn't solve his problem. His frustration had not been eradicated. He wanted Lucy, beside him, in his arms, kissing him, surrounding him-

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter as the heat increased over his skin, and almost against his will, his long, dextrous fingers brushed the protuberance between his legs. He was no stranger to the activity, having spent so much time around Terrans, and as his fingers touched the straining zipper, he groaned. The bond was still humming with activity, and suddenly he felt something akin to falling suddenly on a stairwell, the strange lift in his abdomen. It was gone as soon as it had come, but he knew exactly what it was.

_Lucy._

For a moment, she had been dimly aware of him, or of the bond, or of something. She had been aware, which meant that she was not as comatose as he originally had thought. He felt his guilt ease slightly, and his frustration turned to determination. He would find her...he would have all of her for himself. Her mind would be his and his alone, her body his personal prize, his sweet reward. He sighed in relief and leaned back further into the pillows. He craved her flesh, her touch, her mind against his, in his, intertwined together until they did not know where he began and she ended.

Of one thing he was sure: when she was moved, he would have to wait a while to throw off any lingering suspicions against him. But he would find her, and his craving would be satisfied. One way or another it would be satisfied, because when the fever overtook him, his only goal would be to find her, to take her, rip the clothes from her tanned skin and sink his teeth into her flesh-

He sighed and slipped his fingers beneath his trousers. Until that day, this would have to do.

…

Yuris glared at Oratt and Strom, deep in their own conversation, oblivious to the nearly emotional scowl on the youngest Vulcan's face. They had decided to trick T'Pol into taking a PADD so they could scan it later and determine if she had Pa'nar Syndrome. They had decided this without any thought to patient privacy, or to the possible repercussions on T'Pol's career if it was discovered she had Pa'nar. No, they thought only of their personal vendettas against melders far and wide. It was the high of illogic to think that all melders wanted to spread infections and force their ideals on everyone, to mentally rape every Vulcan they came across and completely alter their mental state. Once again, the High Command was being its pompous, hypocritical self, shoving their ideals down everyone's throat and dismissing anyone who disagreed with them. Yuris could feel the beginnings of white-hot anger toward his colleagues and the Vulcan government seethe beneath his skin, and he closed his eyes to meditate.

He could feel one of them watching him, he suspected Strom, since Oratt hardly looked his way. To the senior physician, Yuris was no more than a young upstart with little experience and no insight, but the young Vulcan was pleased Strom at least valued his opinion, or at least appeared to.

"_Enterprise, _this is Dr. Oratt requesting permission to dock. We would like to meet with your captain, and if they are not otherwise occupied, could Dr. Phlox and Subcommander T'Pol please join us?"

"_Acknowledged, doctor, I'll pass along the message._"

A few minutes later, they received another message giving them permission to come aboard. They docked, and Yuris stood up and straightened his shirt. He was not sure what this meeting would mean for T'Pol, but he was anticipating the prospect of looking over Lucy and seeing her for himself, perhaps to ascertain if she had indeed participated in a mind-meld.

He sighed and followed the elder doctors to the airlock.


	4. Triumphant

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to snapeissexy and **_ _**dettaarsvenska for reviewing.**_

_**And just so you know: I only concede to the wishes of the plot bunnies. I am not a medical practitioner, though I did a little research to make this as realistic as I could. All I'm asking is that you go with the flow. I obviously don't know what I'm talking about when it comes to medical matters.**_

Phlox was running another scan on Lucy when he glanced up and saw Hardister suppress a yawn. A few minutes ago, the girl's father had brushed her hair and teeth and cleaned her face. With Phlox's help, they moved her to a chair for about thirty minutes, part of the procedure used to prevent bedsores. The Denobulan was partially grateful that Hardister was a doctor and knew how to treat comatose patients, but the downside to that was that he knew how comatose patients were treated, knew exactly the level of care they needed, knew how helpless his daughter truly was. But still, in true Denobulan fashion, Phlox kept a cheerful attitude about the entire thing, telling Hardister once again that he was confident Lucy would recover.

A beeping from overhead proved his point, and he brought the data on the overhead screen to the human doctor's attention.

"See that? The activity in the cerebral cortex? It comes back up to normal, then drops again."

Hardister stared at the screen. "You mean she's experiencing moments of consciousness?"

Phlox nodded. "It seems so. I think this is a good sign that she'll be waking soon, but I've got several more scans to run before I can tell you anything."

Hardister nodded. "I don't want to get my hopes up if it's not what you think it is."

Phlox frowned at the man's pessimistic attitude. "I know this must be frustrating to you, and I have no authority to dictate how you feel about the situation, but for all our sakes...for Lucy, try to be optimistic. We're still not sure what happened to her."

"So I've noticed," the man said bitterly, but then guilt clouded his features. "I'm sorry, doctor, forget what I just said. I know you're doing everything you can for Lucy...and I'm very grateful."

Phlox clapped the doctor on the shoulder and returned to his desk to examine a sample of Lucy's blood while the latest scan was running, but halfway there, the comm beeped and he changed direction.

"Phlox here," he said quietly.

"_Doctor_," came Hoshi's voice, "_you're needed at docking port 2. A Vulcan contingent is on their way to the ship, and they requested you join them_."

So the doctors had finally arrived. "Acknowledged, ensign, I'm on my way."

He turned to Hardister. "I've been expecting this visit since yesterday. I'll be back shortly with some Vulcan doctors, but if anything should happen while I'm gone, don't hesitate to contact me."

The human doctor nodded, and Phlox left sickbay and strode through the corridors to the correct docking port, eager to see to T'Pol's treatment, hoping the doctors had something he could use.

…

Yuris nodded politely to Phlox when he greeted him at the airlock, T'Pol and Captain Archer at his side, but the young Vulcan avoided eye contact with the Denobulan when they sat down at the conference table. The captain was cordial, even buoyant, and T'Pol was detached yet polite, but Yuris could almost feel the accusatory thoughts from Oratt, like an oppressive heat that hung over one's body in the desert, undisturbed by wind or clouds. Oratt had made up his mind, that much was clear to Yuris. Strom was simply following in his superior's footsteps, and it saddened Yuris that his old colleague could be so callous and uncaring toward a member of his own species.

Oratt was pleasant at first, politely refusing nourishment and respectfully requesting T'Pol's presence for the meeting, but then his tone turned more serious, and Yuris stared at him, trying to conceal not only his disgust at his colleagues' subterfuge, but his concern about the outcome of this discussion.

"We've discussed your request," the senior physician began, and if Yuris had been anything but Vulcan, he would have been hard-pressed not to roll his eyes. They had certainly not discussed anything with _him. _"Unfortunately, we are still hesitant to share data regarding Pa'nar Syndrome," Oratt continued.

T'Pol was seated across from Yuris, and she looked markedly uncomfortable, and perhaps rightfully so. He would have liked to think that T'Pol was not infected, that she had been spared this, that she hadn't even gone near a melder...but that was a high hope. She glanced down toward Phlox before re-establishing eye contact with Oratt, but Phlox was only silent for a moment before speaking.

"Subcommander T'Pol is not aware of my request, I'm...curious as to why you asked her to stay."

Yuris couldn't help but notice that Phlox had shared T'Pol's discreet glance toward him, and that he looked uncomfortable as well, though he was very skilled at hiding it.

"You're requesting information about a Vulcan disease," said Strom incredulously, "and you didn't discuss it with your Vulcan science officer?"

"That's correct," Phlox replied smoothly. "As far as I know, her expertise does not include medicine," he continued with an easy shrug. Yuris glanced over at his fellow doctors and saw immediately that Strom was not convinced, but Oratt was hiding his incredulity under a mask of neutrality.

"Are you familiar with Pa'nar Syndrome, subcommander?" the senior physician asked briskly, turning his gaze toward T'Pol for the first time. The woman raised an eyebrow, almost as if she were insulted. She and the Denobulan were playing their parts well, but Yuris knew this charade could only go so far.

"Of course," she said, almost haughtily. Oratt glanced down at the table as if to gather his thoughts, then captured her gaze again.

"Would you mind describing it?" he pressed, and Yuris was surprised at the gentleness in his voice. Strom's eyes were fixed on T'Pol, his gaze boring into her, as if by sheer will he could discover the truth from her. The irony of that was not lost on the young Vulcan doctor, but he only quirked an eyebrow and focused on their query once more.

T'Pol audibly breathed in a sharp breath with a gleam of amusement in her eyes, as if their question was some jest and she was waiting for the reveal. If only it were so...

"You're physicians," she said carefully, and it was her voice now that was tinged with incredulity. "Why would you need me to define an illness?"

"Please," Oratt insisted, his voice almost a purr, "indulge us." Yuris had a sudden thought that Strom and Oratt, but the latter especially, were trying to lull the subcommander into a false sense of security, with their soft voices and careful words. But thankfully T'Pol didn't seem to be convinced that this conversation was simply a medical debate, or fellow physicians collaborating and cooperating with each other. In fact, Oratt and Strom's plan of action was still unclear to him, and he had no way to warn Phlox or T'Pol that they were most likely being manipulated.

"It's an incurable degradation of the synaptic pathways," T'Pol said, a note of irritation in her voice. "It also affects the endocrine and immune systems."

"An impressive definition," Strom acquiesced, his tone even warmer than Oratt's. "Can you tell us how the disease is transmitted?" Yuris glared down the row at the middle-aged Vulcan.

"Through a telepathic practice," T'Pol stated ambiguously, apparently refusing to play his colleagues' game. They had danced through the pleasantries thus far, waltzing around each other with neutral expressions and easy voices, and though Oratt and Strom were dangling their bait in front of the subcommander, she wasn't biting.

But Oratt was insistent, forcing the bait to her lips. "And what practice would that be?"

The first part of their game was over; T'Pol could no longer dance around this, and Yuris was sure Oratt knew that fact.

"Mind-melds," she said plainly after a long moment's pause. "They cause a disruption of neuroelectric impulses in the mid brain, which can lead to the early stages of the Syndrome."

Yuris' eyebrows lifted for a moment, and his gaze drifted upwards to meet Phlox's, almost against his will, as if the Denobulan had some horrible control over him. Phlox was staring intently at him, the question they both were asking themselves burning in the alien doctor's eyes. Had Lucy been subjected to this?

Carefully, so his colleagues could not see, he shook his head minutely from side to side, and Phlox turned his glance to his hands, which were folded tightly on the table, a clear indication of the doctor's discomfort.

"Do you condone these acts, subcommander?" Strom pushed the issue, hiding his victorious purr underneath a guise of curiosity, and by this point, Yuris' stomach was beginning to roil in irritation. And it seemed he wasn't alone. T'Pol stood and calmly raised her eyes to glare at Oratt with cold disdain.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me why you asked me here," she said slowly, her voice as frigid as a winter on Andoria.

"As would I," Phlox chimed, his tone accusatory. "Your questions to T'Pol seem inappropriate."

Oratt glanced at the Denobulan, then back to T'Pol. "Dr. Phlox has asked for data regarding the _treatment_ of Pa'nar Syndrome. Did you have _anything _to do with that request?"

"I believe I was very clear about that," Phlox interjected.

"Yes," Strom said, his voice almost dripping with the pleasure of one who has engaged in a long and tedious debate and is now certain of his victory. "Your _colleague _on Denobula." His lips twitched upward into an indulgent, assured smile, then he continued. "Forgive us, doctor, but since there's a Vulcan serving on your ship, a fact that you neglected to mention to us," here Strom twisted the knife a little, his eyes gleaming victoriously, "we had to consider other possible motives for your inquiry."

Phlox seemed determined to keep the charade going, and though it seemed futile to Yuris, he conceded that Phlox had little in the way of options at the moment. The doctors were convinced that T'Pol was guilty of something, and nothing Phlox could say would change their minds now.

"What motive are you suggesting?" the alien doctor asked as if it were of no import to him.

Strom stared at the Denobulan for a split second longer, then quickly rose and maneuvered his way out from the row of seats, the PADD he had brought to the table now in his hand. He strode confidently and purposefully past Oratt and Yuris, then stopped at the head of the table, facing T'Pol with a dauntless gaze.

"Are you familiar with any of these names?" he asked, handing the PADD to the subcommander.

Yuris glanced up at Strom even though the older Vulcan's eyes were not on him, and suddenly Strom's abrupt exit from his office last night became all too clear. And T'Pol played right into his colleagues' hands, firmly taking the PADD and pressing her fingers to the surface of the thin device.

"They're Vulcan," she said finally after examining the list, her voice still irritated and cold, "I'm not familiar with any of them."

She handed the PADD back to Strom, and Yuris closed his eyes briefly before glancing at his superior on his left. Oratt's eyes were fixed for a moment on the PADD, then he shifted his gaze back to Strom, and Yuris did the same.

"They're melders," Strom explained. "Vulcans with the ability to transfer thoughts and memories to each other." The older Vulcan glanced away for a moment, then adopted an expression of a teacher reprimanding a disobedient student, toying with them before laying on a final punishment for their actions. "Do you know any melders, subcommander?"

"Not well," T'Pol replied evenly, and Yuris admired her refusal to be baited, "but I've met a number of them."

"Then I'll ask you again," Strom pressed, unaffected by her apparent apathy, "do you condone their behavior?"

T'Pol glared at him. "I don't understand what your questions have to do with the doctor's request."

"_We _find the behavior unacceptable," Oratt supplied, already labeling T'Pol as a melder or at the least a sympathizer, emphasizing the _we_, as in the 'proper' Vulcan doctors, "and since Pa'nar Syndrome is transmitted by these people, its cure is _not _a priority."

T'Pol turned to him with barely veiled anger. "You traveled up from the surface to tell Dr. Phlox you wouldn't help him?" she asked incredulity.

Oratt regarded her with an even, apathetic stare. "If you'll please show us to your sickbay," he said dismissively, standing. Yuris followed suit and waited for Dr. Phlox to rise as well, and the youngest Vulcan doctor made a point to walk side by side with the Denobulan all the way to sickbay. T'Pol saw them to the door of the medical facility, then departed with one last suspicious glare at Oratt and Strom, but the three Vulcan doctors and the Denobulan continued on into sickbay.

Yuris heard Phlox let out a delighted gasp at the sight before their eyes, and the young Vulcan raised an eyebrow. They had been told Lucy was still comatose, and her father was blocking their view at the moment, but it was obvious that the human girl was no longer gone from the world. But when her father turned around and regarded them with open despair, Yuris took that to mean that just because Lucy was no longer unconscious did not mean she was well.

Dr. Hardister backed away from the biobed to afford the Vulcans and Phlox a better view, and Yuris frowned openly at Lucy's dead stare. Her gaze was fixed on a nondescript spot on the wall opposite her, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her shoulders slumped, her hair shielding most of her face. Phlox turned to him with a confused stare, but then assumed his role smoothly and stepped toward Hardister.

"Why didn't you call me?" he inquired of the human doctor, his voice quiet.

Hardister bit his lip and glanced at Lucy, who continued to stare at the wall. "I was just about to when you walked in the door. She only woke up a minute ago and hasn't said a word. I've tried talking to her, but she won't say anything. Doctor, what's wrong with her?"

The man's voice had risen to near panic, and Phlox laid a careful hand on Hardister's shoulder. "As you so kindly stated earlier, I'm doing everything in my power to help Lucy. Now, perhaps our visitors wouldn't mind introducing themselves while I see to your daughter, hm?"

Phlox gestured purposefully toward Yuris and his colleagues, and Hardister obeyed the silent command after letting out a shuddering sigh. Oratt and Strom quickly introduced themselves, but Yuris simply nodded politely to Hardister and advanced toward Lucy. Her gaze had shifted to the floor, and he watched in confusion as she raised her hand and slowly tucked her hair behind her ear. Phlox had fetched his scanner and returned to her side, gently greeting her.

"I wish the circumstances were different for our first meeting, but I am glad to see you at least awake," the Denobulan said softly, smiling at her even though she didn't see.

Lucy glanced away toward the door, and Yuris was coincidentally standing in her line of sight. Her brow furrowed minutely in apparent confusion before her gaze slowly drifted up his torso. When her gaze locked with his, he expected for her lifeless hazel eyes to simply direct their attention elsewhere and pay him no heed, as would be consistent with a patient suffering from trauma. Lucy was exhibiting classic symptoms of acute stress disorder, and with that diagnosis, he expected her to continue dissociating with her surroundings, to be trapped in her own little world, as the humans called it.

He did not expect her hazel eyes to brighten with terror, or for her to shove Phlox's hand away and leap off the biobed, or for her to stumble backwards away from him, her eyes locked with his, her eyes wide with terror like a wild animal who has been cornered by hunters. He did not expect her to grab one of Phlox's instruments and hurl it at him. He caught it easily, remembering that Oratt, Strom and Hardister were all behind him, and he did not wish for them to be injured. He tossed the object aside without even registering what it was, and he watched in confusion and ever-growing worry as Lucy put several biobeds between them, then grabbed another instrument and gripped it tight as a makeshift weapon. She pointed it at him, her knuckles white her grip was so tight, and her wide eyes continued to bore into his, as if she were afraid that if she looked away but for a moment, he would pounce and devour her.

Hardister cried out when he heard the commotion and realized what was going on (Lucy had inadvertently knocked over a tray of instruments as she beat a hasty retreat away from Yuris), and Oratt and Strom turned their heads sharply at the noise. Hardister rushed forward, then stopped short of the biobed Lucy was now barricaded behind. His pace slowed, and he gently called his daughter's name. Her eyes did not move from Yuris, but the tension in her face seemed to ease slightly, and she lowered the instrument in her hand by a millimeter.

Oratt and Strom were whispering behind him, and after debating with himself as to what to do, he decided the best course of action would be to turn and walk away. Perhaps his absence would calm Lucy down, and without saying a word, he turned smartly on his heel and walked briskly toward the door.

Phlox stopped him with a word, but after Yuris turned and gave him a meaningful glance, the Denobulan nodded in understanding.

"We'll get her under control here," Phlox said quietly, quickly loading a hypospray, presumably containing a sedative of some sort. Yuris glanced past the alien doctor and observed as Hardister blocked his view of Lucy, then slowly held out his hand for the medical instrument. Lucy did not move a muscle.

"We'll be in touch, doctor," Phlox continued, bringing Yuris' attention back to him. The young Vulcan nodded curtly and continued toward the door, and Strom regarded him with a sympathetic glance.

"Where are you going, Yuris?"

"To the shuttle. It is logical to remove myself from her presence so she may calm down. I have inadvertently triggered something in her, and until we know exactly what that thing is, it would be wise for me to avoid her for the time being."

Strom raised an eyebrow, and Yuris could almost see pity behind his colleague's bright blue eyes, and finally the older Vulcan nodded to him. Strom glanced at Oratt, who nodded in agreement.

"Doctor," Oratt said, addressing Phlox, who looked up, "we will also be in touch with you concerning Ms. Hardister's condition, but we feel it would be best if we leave."

Phlox nodded and turned to watch Hardister run his hand over his daughter's hair, and Yuris' last picture of her was of her face, pale as death, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, but no trace of grief in her blank expression. She had backed all the way to the wall, then slid down the surface to the floor, and her father was kneeling close to her, combing her hair back from her pallid cheeks. She made no indication that she knew he was there, and she had resumed her blank stare at nothing, oblivious now that Yuris had removed himself from her line of sight. He sighed and turned to his colleagues, who preceded him out the door.

It wasn't until they were aboard their shuttle and clear of the Earth vessel that anyone spoke. Oratt turned to Strom and made certain he still had the PADD T'Pol had touched, and Strom held it up with a triumphant nod. But the triumph drained from his face when he turned and saw Yuris' contemplative expression.

"Yuris?" Strom said softly, tilting his head and leaning slightly forward in concern. The youngest Vulcan closed his eyes briefly.

"I believe she is suffering from acute stress disorder," he said carefully. "Though as to why, I do not know."

Strom glanced down at the PADD in his lap, then looked up again at his colleague. "Have you discussed her basic physical with Phlox?"

"Yes."

The middle-aged Vulcan shifted in his seat, as if uncomfortable. "Did he check for signs of...violation?"

"Of a physical nature? Yes, and the tests were negative. If you wish to confirm this fact, I'm sure Phlox would be happy to send you his data."

"I will handle this case, Yuris," Oratt interjected abruptly. "And I do not believe Phlox will be her physician for long."

Yuris sighed to himself and closed his eyes to meditate briefly before they landed. It was foolish of him to think that Oratt could have ever had good intentions toward the subcommander if there was any chance she might have that terrible disease. It was foolish to hope that his superior might have a burst of compassion and share what little research he and his colleagues had done. The medical community, of course, had made minimal progress on finding a cure for Pa'nar, but suspects or liars or accomplices or no, Yuris believed Phlox and T'Pol deserved the truth. Had he not just witnessed the most deceitful, most manipulative manner of obtaining private information, and without a patient's knowledge? Just because T'Pol was suspected of having Pa'nar Syndrome, of being a melder, her medical rights, her right to privacy as a citizen of Vulcan were suddenly rescinded? The thought made the white-hot anger return, and Yuris let out a calming breath and focused on a solution.

He could contact Phlox and arrange a meeting to discuss this matter further, but he quickly dismissed that option, as Strom and Oratt would most likely prevent anyone at the conference from contacting the Denobulan doctor if it was discovered he was lying, and the two would also most likely keep Yuris busy with other, more pressing matters. But if he went directly to the victim, directly to T'Pol...but this was only if T'Pol had Pa'nar Syndrome, which they had yet to confirm. Phlox was definitely lying about his motives for obtaining information on the disease, but as of that moment, T'Pol was blameless. The doctor may be banned from the conference for dishonesty, but even if the subcommander were discovered to be suffering from the disease, he would find a way to help her. He owed her that much...she deserved that much, as a Vulcan, as a potential victim, as a person.

…

"Is it definitive?" Yuris did not believe in an omnipotent being, or the human concept of luck, but he found himself hoping that the evidence was faulty, that the scanner was malfunctioning, that his own eyesight was betraying him.

"Unmistakably," Strom said firmly, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he had just condemned T'Pol and her career. "She's suffering from the Syndrome."

Yuris was at least glad Strom did not have that triumphant tone in his voice as he damned the subcommander, and the younger Vulcan turned away as Strom turned back to the screen, seemingly fascinated by the magnified strand of T'Pol's DNA.

He closed his eyes and breathed out as silently as he could. He would contact T'Pol tonight and arrange a meeting; as he had told himself in the shuttle, she deserved all the facts. He was relieved that at least she wasn't part of the minority. Then her career would most certainly be in shambles, though there wasn't much she could do now but return to Vulcan, face her trial and live her life as an outcast.

But perhaps it didn't have to be that way. He would see her tomorrow, he decided, and he would do the little he could to help this newest victim of Pa'nar.


	5. Arrogant

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Bina W, thank you for reviewing the last two chapters. And also thank you very much to **__**dettaarsvenska**_ _**and snapeissexy for reviewing.**_

Oratt breathed in a calming breath, then typed in the code to contact _Enterprise_. After speaking briefly with their communications officer, he was transferred to the captain.

Archer smiled politely when he came on the screen, but Oratt simply raised an eyebrow and proceeded with his business without preamble.

"Your doctor is no longer welcome at this conference," he began, and Archer's cheerful expression fell, but then he adopted a confused look and frowned at the Vulcan.

"May I ask why?"

"He tried to obtain medical data under false pretenses."

Archer paused. "May I ask what those pretenses were?"

"Dr. Phlox asked for data regarding a neural disease. He told us this information was for a Denobulan colleague, but it has come to our attention that he actually wanted the data for your science officer, Subcommander T'Pol."

Oratt barely raised an eyebrow as Archer went slightly pale. "You mean she has this neural disease?"

The senior physician nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry to inform you that is disease is terminal." He, of course, was not necessarily troubled over T'Pol's condition; it was unfortunate, but she had admitted that she knew about Pa'nar Syndrome, and this disease was no more than she deserved for engaging in unacceptable behavior.

Archer opened his mouth, then closed it again. He swallowed hard, then tried once more to speak.

"I apologize for Phlox's...dishonesty. I assure you he only had T'Pol's best interests at heart."

Oratt simply narrowed his eyes. "But we do not condone dishonesty at this conference. We'll be in contact, captain."

He promptly ended the transmission, as he could sense that the captain was very upset over the news, and Oratt was not disposed to watch an emotional breakdown, even over subspace. He folded his hands, his fingers steepled, and he breathed in another calming breath before settling himself down for meditation.

…

Zareel smiled soberly when he saw the young Vulcan doctor in line beside him, and he lightly tapped the man on the shoulder to get his attention. The dining hall was noisy and crowded, but Zareel could still hear the tinge of surprise in Yuris' voice.

"Dr. Zareel," the young doctor said, quickly dipping his head in a hasty bow. "Has your day been satisfactory?"

They had reached the end of the line and had only to gather their eating utensils, and Zareel postponed giving an answer until they were both seated in a remote corner of the dining hall.

"My day has been more than satisfactory, doctor, but I must ask...have you heard anything more on Lucy Hardister's case?"

Zareel frowned as Yuris' eyes were clouded with pain for a moment, but his expression cleared, and he regarded the Denobulan with a steady gaze.

"Lucy is awake," he said, and before Zareel could exclaim how happy he was at the news, the Vulcan held up a hand. "But she is not herself. I believe she is suffering from acute stress disorder."

Zareel frowned. "But what about the coma?"

"Her synapses were overwhelmed. Dr. Phlox is more familiar with her situation. I only know a few details, but Dr. Oratt has dismissed Phlox from this conference and is taking on Lucy's case himself. He has yet to officially diagnose her condition."

Zareel's eyes widened at the news, and although he pressed for details regarding Phlox's ban from the conference, Yuris would not talk.

"I've been ordered to remain silent on the matter, and it involves patient privacy, so I am further restricted from sharing information with you."

The young Denobulan nodded. "And is Lucy still on _Enterprise_?"

Yuris nodded. "She will be moved tonight to a nearby hospital until the conference is over. Because of Phlox's ban, Oratt has also decided that he is unfit to care for Ms. Hardister."

Zareel suppressed a gasp. "But Phlox has been working with humans for several years now, and though the Dekendi are quite skilled and very involved in this program, they are not familiar with human psychology!"

Yuris sighed. "A few of the doctors in the human contingent have volunteered to work with her at the Dekendi hospital. Though, if I may be candid, I agree with you. I do not believe that moving Ms. Hardister now is necessary or logical."

"But Dr. Oratt-"

"Will not be swayed. In his eyes, Phlox has committed a grave offense, and under the circumstances, Oratt is determined to sever Phlox's ties with this conference. However...I have said more than I should."

Zareel wanted to ask him more questions, particularly regarding Phlox's 'grave offense', but the Vulcan was busy eating and didn't seem in the mood for more discussion. Soon they finished their meal and parted ways, but before Yuris left his sight, Zareel made certain of Lucy's location and condition.

"Oratt does not have the authority to ban anyone from going to _Enterprise_. He has no sway over your contingent, and you may go where you please. I am sure Lucy would appreciate a visit from you, even if she is not herself," the young Vulcan whispered to him quickly before disappearing into the crowd.

Zareel sighed and disposed of his tray, then returned to the Denobulan section.

…

After Lucy's near hysteria from the Vulcans' visit, she had watched the Vulcans leave the room, and her body slumped as in defeat; she descended back to the silent, oblivious girl who hid her silent tears behind her lank black hair. Hardister took her by the hand and led his little girl back to the biobed she had been sitting on. He had never been truly fond of Vulcans, though he found their inner workings fascinating, and it struck him as odd that his daughter had turned out to be nearly a self-proclaimed vulcanophile. It stung that much more to see her scurry away from one of the few Vulcans who had taken an interest in her case, who seemed to have her best interests at heart and wasn't simply fulfilling a duty or making themselves feel self-important.

But he found it somewhat astonishing when his daughter did not react when Oratt came the next day. Hardister was trying to coax Lucy into eating some solid food for breakfast, in this case oatmeal, and Phlox was busy with another scan. The Denobulan had of course brought him the sad news that he would no longer be working Lucy's case, and Hardister was disappointed to see Phlox leave. But it would have been that way anyway, since Phlox had duties with _Enterprise _and Hardister was due to return to Earth. But to be dismissed from the conference in disgrace...Hardister had half a mind that Phlox might have discovered some deep secret concerning Lucy and the Vulcans were trying to hush it up, but then he told himself that he was being unreasonable, which made him feel for Phlox. The Denobulan was so kind and gentle with Lucy, and Hardister couldn't imagine the man being accused of ethical misconduct.

But his feelings about the Vulcans aside, Hardister nodded politely to Oratt, having heard enough about the man to know that he was a ranking member of the Council of Physicians, and that he had a lot of sway at this conference. It was Oratt who dismissed Phlox from the conference, and Hardister supposed he was here to collect Lucy.

His daughter was refusing every bite he offered her, and he was past the point of pleading for her cooperation. Phlox watched with a sympathetic gaze, but Hardister was determined to make his daughter eat. She was awake, she was at least minimally aware of what was going on around her, and therefore she should be able to ingest solid food like she normally would. His thoughts tripped and tumbled over the darkest of ideas about why she was like this, but the Vulcans kept insisting this was most likely a pre-existing condition or the unfortunate aftereffects of an anomaly of some sort.

Lucy glanced impassively at Oratt, then fixed her gaze on the tiled floor, but she quickly turned her head when her father brought a spoonful of oatmeal to her lips.

"Lucy, aren't you hungry?" Hardister asked, trying to control his voice.

She didn't respond, and Oratt quirked an eyebrow at Phlox, who took the gesture to be a summons. He approached the Vulcan and glanced pitifully at Lucy.

"She's been like this all morning," the Denobulan said softly. "Uncooperative, practically unresponsive. But I'm surprised she didn't react more to your presence."

Oratt raised an eyebrow, but Hardister was focused on Lucy. "Come on," he pleaded. "You haven't eaten since yesterday. Please, baby...Lucy Lou, sweetheart, can you please just take one bite for me?"

The human doctor did not care what the aliens thought of him or his words, but he frowned in irritation when Oratt came forward and held out his hand for the bowl of oatmeal. Phlox looked confused and annoyed as well, but Hardister was frustrated and somewhat overwhelmed regarding Lucy. Perhaps the Vulcan doctor could do something.

Oratt scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal and held it firmly to Lucy's lips. "Eat," he commanded, his voice firm and cold. Lucy stiffened and stared at him, and Hardister noticed that she was clutching the sides of the biobed with an unyielding grip. Her eyes did not leave the Vulcan's as she slowly relaxed her jaw, allowing him access. There was something distinctly disturbing about the way his daughter was staring at Oratt, as if she were afraid disobedience would lead to punishment. Though he found her lack of cooperation frustrating, cold commands did not seem like the proper way to garner her cooperation.

Oratt then shoved the bowl toward Lucy. "Finish it," he demanded. She relinquished her grip on the biobed and took the oatmeal with shaking hands, her eyes fixed on Oratt, her expression bordering on terror.

He stood and watched her as she ate, and she finished the entire bowl under the Vulcan doctor's watchful eye. Phlox and Hardister exchanged a worried glance, but Phlox turned back to his scan and examined the results, and the beeping noise signaling the test's completion caught Oratt's attention. The senior Vulcan turned and joined Phlox at the monitor, and the Denobulan stepped to the side so Oratt could examine the results, but Hardister couldn't help but notice the coldness in Phlox's eyes as he moved aside.

The Denobulan abandoned the monitor and approached Lucy, taking the empty bowl from her hands with a sigh.

"This is progress, but not the type I wanted to see," Phlox said softly, setting the bowl aside. Hardister knew Phlox was aware that Vulcan hearing was above that of most humanoids; indeed, when Hardister looked to Oratt, he saw the doctor give a suspicious glance toward Phlox. But Oratt focused his attention back on the monitor, and Hardister stroked his hand down Lucy's back.

"Lucy Lou," he whispered, "I don't care how long it takes, I'm finding you in there. I swear it, baby."

Phlox raised his eyes to meet Hardister's, and the human doctor was surprised at the level of solidarity he saw reflected in the Denobulan's shocking blue eyes. But the moment was shattered when Oratt spoke across the room.

"It seems the worst of the effects of whatever anomaly she encountered are finally dissipating. Please have Ms. Hardister ready to depart by 1700 hours. I will send some medical technicians to retrieve her."

Dr. Phlox bristled and stepped resolutely in Oratt's way as the Vulcan made for the door. "I understand that you must have other things to do, so I will make this brief," the Denobulan began, his words clipped and cold. "I do not agree with your diagnosis, and I have seen no evidence that you have examined the hallway she was found in, or the conference building, or have done anything more than minimal effort for this girl's well-being. You may be a ranking member of the Council of Physicians, but I do not believe that taking Lucy from my care at this time is logical or even necessary. I will be filing a complaint with the Council of Physicians and the High Command over this. I may have been accused of ethical misconduct, but I do not believe you or any Vulcan doctor at this conference except for Dr. Yuris is fit to work with Lucy."

Oratt flared his nostrils and straightened himself to his full height, then looked down his patrician nose at Phlox. "Yuris is young and inexperienced, and I find it unsurprising that you would want to work with him. As for your complaints, you are, of course, free to submit them, though I doubt they will make any difference."

The Vulcan doctor turned and walked towards Lucy, stopping in front of her, his eyes fixed on hers. Hardister thought it was disturbing that his daughter looked like she was hypnotized by Oratt, and she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the Vulcan.

"And as for Ms. Hardister, I doubt you've forgotten already that not only did she obey me, respond to me, but that she reacted quite negatively to Yuris. And yet you insist I involve Yuris in her case, and that I not involve myself."

"Until we know more about what caused her to react like that, we wouldn't put Yuris face to face with her," Phlox countered. "But nevertheless, I want Yuris involved in this."

"That's not your decision to make," Oratt replied with a cold stare. For a few moments, Hardister wasn't sure if perhaps Phlox would say something further, but eventually, the Denobulan stepped aside and allowed the Vulcan to walk out of sickbay.

Phlox turned to Hardister and sighed, and the human doctor turned and began to pack the few things he had sent for from the surface. Hardister was disappointed that Phlox would no longer be working the case, and he appreciated the Denobulan's investment in Lucy's condition, but the Vulcans would get the last word. And there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.


	6. Persistant

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to snapeissexy, 09sasha, and dettaarsvenska for reviewing.**_

"So what you're saying is that I can remove Oratt from this case, but I can't request Yuris instead?"

Phlox nodded to Hardister. "Because Yuris isn't in your contingent, his assignments are controlled by the ranking medical officer in the territory of each assignment. If you choose to have an alien doctor working on your daughter's case, then you have to accept whoever their contingent gives you."

"That's ridiculous."

Phlox sighed. "I agree with your assessment, however, the Vulcans are the ones who set up this program, and everyone else has to concede to their rules. And in a way, it makes sense to leave assignments up to the discretion of the ranking officer, so they can divide up their work accordingly. But as we all know, Vulcans are perhaps a little too enamored with strict rules and traditions..."

The Denobulan trailed off and sighed again. "Forgive me, doctor...the Vulcans have disappointed me, but I shouldn't say such things about them."

Hardister sighed as well, stroking Lucy's hair and tucking a strand behind her ear. "But you also said you thought it would be fortuitous to have a Vulcan on her case."

Phlox shook his head. "It's quite complicated, and I'm sure Oratt would disagree with my assessment."

Hardister fixed the Denobulan with a hard stare. "Doctor, what is your assessment?"

He looked away towards his monitor. "Even I'm doubting myself now."

"Who else is doubting you? Oratt?"

Phlox nodded. "So what is your assessment? What's wrong with Lucy?" the human pressed, his gaze hardening further. Phlox turned to him, silent for a moment, then set his jaw.

"I believe your daughter was...influenced by a telepath. _Enterprise _met a crew of Vulcans with special telepathic abilities, and I've seen the aftereffects of their...telepathic influence." Here Phlox lowered his voice. "These Vulcans are seen as a threat by the High Command and their behavior is seen as abnormal. But as for Lucy...I've seen that signature before."

Hardister's eyes widened with fear and the beginnings of hate, but Phlox held up a hand. "Before you say anything more, I believe it would be wise to keep this diagnosis to yourself. Even I am not sure anymore. This could be anything, even the aftereffects of an anomaly like Oratt says."

"But what about Yuris?"

"He too is uncertain, but he is more open than the others at the moment. That is why I wished him to handle your daughter's case."

"He certainly cares more about her than the other two combined," the human doctor growled. "I don't care who Oratt is, I don't want to see anyone treat my daughter like that. And the other one..."

"Dr. Strom."

Hardister nodded. "I don't know much about him. But he seems like a carbon copy of Oratt."

Phlox bowed his head in agreement. "What little I have seen of Strom I do not like. But what I like and what I want for your daughter will become irrelevant in less than five minutes."

Hardister swallowed. "You've been a great help, doctor. Thank you so much...from both of us."

The Denobulan smiled and lightly patted Lucy's shoulder, and she closed her eyes and leaned her head toward his touch, as if trying to capture his hand between her shoulder and her cheek before he could move it away. It was amazing how well and how quickly she had responded to Phlox, and her warmth toward the friendly alien gave her father hope.

"I know the Vulcans won't listen to you and won't let you on Lucy's case...but what about your colleague? Zareel, was it?"

Phlox stared at Lucy for a minute before smiling. "I believe Zareel would be delighted to help your daughter in any way he can. I'll talk to the Denobulans and see what I can arrange."

Hardister nodded in thanks, and as if on cue, three Vulcans strode through the doors of sickbay. Dr. Strom led two young, tall, dark-haired medical technicians into the room, then stopped and folded his hands professionally in front of him.

"Is she ready to depart, doctor?" the Vulcan physician asked calmly.

Phlox's hand was resting on the girl's shoulder, and she was sedately caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. But when Phlox turned to address Strom, her eyes followed his across the room, and for the second time, her expression was transformed into pure terror. She clutched Phlox's hand with a vice-like grip, and her other hand rooted around behind her, searching for her father. Hardister gripped her hand tightly and tried to draw her close, but she wouldn't tear her eyes from the three Vulcans standing before her.

"No," she moaned softly, and the two doctors holding her hands stared at her in amazement. It was the first time she had spoken since falling into the coma. Hardister blinked away tears and stroked his daughter's face.

"Lucy?" he whispered gently. She whimpered.

"Don't hurt me...please," she whispered, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Strom raised an eyebrow and stepped forward slowly.

"We will not harm you, Ms. Hardister," Strom tried to assure her, his voice as gentle as the human doctor's. "We are simply moving you to another location where human physicians can work with you."

She shook her head and dropped Phlox's hand, then began backing away, her gaze flicking between the three Vulcans. The two young men exchanged glances, then, as if in agreement, also backed away towards the doors, but Strom pressed forward.

"No," Lucy repeated, her voice no higher than a whisper. Strom continued toward her, and the human girl stiffened considerably at his approach, her wide eyes grazing over his ears and dark hair. Her breaths came in great gasps, and her father thought she might hyperventilate, and he pressed closer to his daughter's side, trying to calm her down with gentle words. Strom slowed his pace, then finally stopped a few strides from her, his blue eyes bright with curiosity and concern. Hardister narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan.

"This is the first time she has spoken since waking up?" Strom directed at Phlox. The Denobulan nodded.

"Strange," Phlox murmured. "You and Oratt seem to have a particular talent for garnering progress through terror."

Strom narrowed his eyes at Phlox, but then took another step forward. Lucy let go of her father's hands and backed further away, though Hardister tried to reach for her hand again. She snatched it away and moved quickly, and when Strom was close enough, she reared back her arm as if to strike him; Phlox and Hardister both stepped forward to apprehend her. But when she made to hit his chest, the Vulcan caught her hand with ease, and she stared up at him, mute, frozen, and obviously frightened. Her breasts were heaving with every breath, and her complexion was pallid, reminding Hardister too much of the day they had found her in the hallway.

But after a full minute of gazing into the Vulcan's blue eyes, her posture relaxed, and the fear drained from her face and was replaced by shame and sadness. Strom released her wrist, and she quickly backed away from him and sat on the floor, then burst into tears.

Hardister rushed to her side and tried to hold her, but she cringed at his touch and rocked herself back and forth, her tears gushing down her cheeks, her whimpers and moans quiet, pitiful even.

Seeing her like that was too much for Hardister. He quickly stood and stepped in front of his daughter, shielding her from Strom.

"All right, doctor, that's it. Back up now."

The Vulcan physician stared at the human for a moment, his expression almost irritated, but finally he obeyed and backed away. Lucy's sobs descended into unceasing moans, and Hardister turned to her. She was staring in between his legs at Strom, and the human doctor sighed irritably and rounded again on the Vulcan.

"I think it should be obvious that an anomaly was not responsible for Lucy's condition," Phlox said coldly, and Hardister nodded in agreement.

Strom narrowed his eyes. "Many things can cause hysteria, and I will remind you that we know very little about what happened to your daughter. It would not be prudent to jump to conclusions."

Hardister opened his mouth to call Strom out as a hypocrite, but with a warning glance from Phlox, he decided against it.

"Now," Strom said calmly, turning to the human doctor. "Please have your daughter ready to depart in ten minutes. We will be waiting."

With one last glance at Lucy's tear-stained face, the Vulcan turned on his heel and strode out of sickbay toward the airlock, the medical technicians falling in line behind him.

…

"It was...disturbing," Strom said, his voice tinged with dejection as he finished his account. "I thought surely she wouldn't have reacted so intensely to my presence. Oratt said she seemed adequate when he paid her a visit this morning."

Yuris and Strom were sharing tea in the elder Vulcan's office, discussing Lucy's case and brainstorming possible solutions.

Yuris shook his head. "Until she heals, we should limit our time with her. Let the humans and the Denobulans handle her case."

Strom raised his eyebrows. "I am still bemused as to why she is so terrified of us. The security reports showed no break-ins or trespassing the day they found her in the hallway. We've scanned that hallway multiple times, and we've found nothing. The answer is not forthcoming."

The younger Vulcan sighed. "You said she was, for a moment, only saddened by your presence, not terrified of it."

Strom nodded. "For approximately thirty seconds...but then the fear seemed to overtake her again." He paused. "If I could work with her, become a more familiar presence and dispel her fear..."

Yuris raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea. "It might be fortuitous to try. However, I should not accompany you on your forays. Oratt might be open to going with you as well, though judging from his description of his visit, that might not be prudent either. You seem to have forced her to experience an emotion other than fear, which I suppose is a start."

Strom's expression softened. "Then I will try to make her understand that we will not harm her...she's becoming a woman, and it would be unfortunate for that progress to be halted by this incident."

Yuris sighed to himself. "I fear someone else may have noticed that she's becoming a woman, and that they were far too enamored with that fact."

Strom frowned. "Phlox confirmed that she was not violated-"

The younger Vulcan held up a hand. "There are many ways to violate a woman, Strom. You know this."

His meaning was lost on the older Vulcan until Strom's eyes lit up with comprehension. "You still believe she was the victim of a forced mind-meld," he stated softly, shaking his head. "As I told Phlox, it would be unwise to draw premature conclusions."

"Then perhaps you could explain why you think she is only afraid of Vulcans."

"Oratt extrapolated that an anomaly might have...warped her perceptions. The region of her brain responsible for reasoning, and perhaps the one that controls fear, may have both been addled."

Strom raised his eyes and met Yuris' unconvinced stare. "Although I agree that something or someone has warped her perceptions," the younger Vulcan began, "I am still not convinced an anomaly is to blame."

The older physician shook his head. "We are obviously going to disagree on this matter, and it would be best to withhold judgment until we have more evidence." Yuris nodded in agreement.

"I'm curious, doctor," Strom continued. "Where were you last night?"

Yuris took a sip of tea, the memory of his meeting with T'Pol clear in his mind.

"_What if I didn't choose?"_

_He pondered her question for a moment, then reached a terrible conclusion. "You were coerced...you should tell them. They'll be far more sympathetic."_

"_Are you infected?" T'Pol asked, her voice soft and almost hopeful, looking for any support she could find. He didn't blame her._

"_No," he replied, dashing her hopes. "Only a small percentage are."_

_She cast her eyes downward, and he thought he felt a tendril of sadness reach out to him before she tucked it away. Her control was admirable for one with her condition, though he knew from the scans that she was still in the early stages._

_He gathered his thoughts and focused on the task at hand. "If they ask my opinion, I won't be able to condone what you did. I hope you understand."_

_She nodded resolutely. "You can't jeopardize your position."_

_He bowed his head in gratitude, then looked away for a moment. "I have to return...tell them what happened. Tell them _before _they contact the High Command."_

_She opened her mouth to respond. "Thank you for this."_

_He bowed to her one last time, then gathered the cloak tightly around his body and quickly made his way back to the conference center._

The meeting had only resolved Yuris' belief that Lucy had somehow been exposed to a mind-meld. If a Vulcan science officer could have been attacked, knowing the risks and possessing more skill to protect herself, than where would that leave a seventeen-year-old human girl (who according to her father and Dr. Zareel was very fond of Vulcans and aliens in general), naïve and weaker than a Vulcan?

"Yuris?"

Strom's expression was bordering on concern, but Yuris simply shook his head. "I had business to attend to. Though," he teased, "I thought I made my escape unnoticed."

"Your presence was missed," Strom retorted, his tone warm.

It was moments like this that Yuris truly valued his relationship with Strom. He would have never considered the man a friend twenty years ago when they first met, but since that day, their professional relationship had given way to a closer acquaintance, where despite their often differing opinions, each had learned to respect the other. Yuris valued Strom's opinion as much as the older Vulcan valued his, and their differing opinions only led to lively debates, and Yuris suspected Strom enjoyed them as much as he did. Strom could be close-minded at times, especially when it came to the fringes of their society and challenging new ideas, and that disappointed Yuris, but the younger Vulcan held to the hope that one day Strom could see the truth.

Yuris suspected Oratt was a factor in Strom's blindness to his own prejudices. The middle-aged Vulcan owed his position in the Inter-Species Medical Exchange to the senior physician, and Yuris thought that all Strom really wanted was Oratt's approval. But it seemed, at least for now, that the damage was extensive; Strom had been so conditioned to shun Vulcans who did not conform to the High Command's expectations that he began to believe the words that came from his mouth, began to believe the propaganda surrounding melders and Pa'nar Syndrome.

But moments like this gave him hope, for Strom's person if not for his beliefs, which Yuris feared were beyond saving. Perhaps one day he would see what was right.

Yuris quickly finished his tea and nodded to the elder Vulcan, then exited his office and returned to his own to finish some more work.

…

Oratt straightened and looked the captain in the eye. "Have her ready to depart by the end of the conference. You have 36 hours, captain."

Archer's expression was pained, and the senior physician watched him swallow with difficulty. "Have you contacted the High Command?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. Oratt flared his nostrils in disgust.

"No, we will wait until we have reached Vulcan. Then T'Pol will stand trial and account for her actions."

Something seemed to break in the human, as he straightened to his full height and narrowed his eyes. "Do you have the authority to recall her?" the captain challenged, his tone icy.

Oratt simply raised an eyebrow and responded in kind. "If I didn't have the authority to take T'Pol off _Enterprise_, I wouldn't be giving you this order. I am a ranking member of the Council of Physicians. That's all the authority I need."

Archer looked dejected, but he put on a brave face and seemingly put his emotions under control. The man may have been an irritant, but Oratt admired Captain Archer's attempts to avoid an emotional outburst. But still, Archer's emotions were none of the senior Vulcan's concern.

"I'll tell T'Pol," the human captain said finally, his voice close to breaking. "Thank you for your time."

Oratt nodded solemnly and ended the transmission without another word, then sighed to himself. Something about dealing with these emotional humans and their turbulent actions disrupted Oratt's calm demeanor. He always had to up his meditation time after these conferences, but this particular occasion called for at least twice the amount of time he spent on introspection. He would be...pleased when he was back on Vulcan, among the logic and rationality of his people.


	7. Concerned

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**_

_**Author's Note: **I've noticed a couple of reviewers are asking where Soval is. He'll come along later in the story, as in perhaps the chapter after next or soon after. And his role will be minimal. The episode I'm exploring is one of my favorites, and if some of you are getting tired of it, I site another fan favorite, "Carbon Creek". I figure if authors on this site can write about that episode at length, then I can do the same for this one. But don't worry, we'll be moving back to Earth soon. Just bear with me._

Dr. Zareel walked down the sunlit hallway toward Lucy's room, enjoying the dry season sunshine streaming in through the trapezoidal windows that lined the corridor. This hospital was only a five minute ride from the conference center, making it convenient for the human doctors to work with their young patient and for Zareel to pay visits. Ever since Yuris had mentioned that Lucy was awake, the Denobulan doctor had longed to see if she was better. The Vulcan's report didn't daunt him, and he strode quickly down the corridor.

Hardister was, to Zareel's surprise, not in the room, but in his place were Dr. Steward and Dr. Strom, seated on either side of Lucy's bed. Both were silent, each absorbed in reading material, and Zareel soon saw why. Lucy was fast asleep in her bed, her ponytail in disarray over the pillow. The Denobulan pulled up a rolling chair and sat at the foot of her bed, nodding to the other two doctors.

"How is she?" he whispered, and Steward sighed.

"Her sleep cycle is highly irregular. Her father noted how little she was sleeping, and it seems she may be developing narcolepsy."

Zareel frowned. "What brought this on?"

The human doctor paused, glancing at the young girl, watching her diaphragm rise and fall. "In my opinion, she's exhibiting classic signs of acute stress disorder. Once she's awake, I'll run some scans. I'm glad you're here," he said, turning to Strom.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"The answer should be obvious," Zareel offered. "I've been told she's avoiding Vulcans."

"We'll see how she reacts to you and monitor her physical responses to test my theory," Steward elaborated. "Forgive my candor, but I don't think Oratt is right in his diagnosis. This is so typical of acute stress response, nearly textbook. But those initial scans Phlox ran..."

"The unknown stimulation?" Strom said, his voice unconvincingly neutral.

Steward nodded. "I have never seen something like that before."

"And perhaps it came from an anomaly as Oratt suggested."

"Well, it must have been the most terrifying anomaly on the planet, if her current symptoms are any indication," the human doctor said incredulously.

"It would be...disconcerting to have one's brain addled by an unknown force of nature, wouldn't you agree?" Strom pressed, his voice colder now.

Steward only let out an irritated huff of breath and turned back to his reading, and Strom fell silent as well. Zareel took to watching Lucy, and he noted how much she was shifting and squirming.

"Was she this restless when you got here, doctor?" the Denobulan asked Steward.

Steward nodded. "She's gotten so little rest over the last few days, even if she's squirming like that, she needs all the sleep she can find. Poor thing..."

Strom raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. Zareel stood up and walked over to her bedside, then sat on its side and lightly touched Lucy's shoulder. She moaned softly and turned her head toward his touch, then shifted and moved her hand up toward her neck. Lucy arched her back and moaned again, bending her knees so that her bare legs peeked out from the tousled covers. The Denobulan backed away and sat back down in his chair, staring incredulously at Steward.

"Yes, doctor, like that," the human said softly, glancing at Lucy with concern in his eyes. "Don't know what she's dreaming about...kind of wish I knew."

"Why would you want to know that, doctor?" Strom asked, seemingly affronted.

"Because then I could know a little more about what's troubling her. For humans, dreams can reveal a lot about what a person fears."

Strom stared at Lucy for a moment, his eyes raking over the rumpled blanket and her disheveled hair, and he nodded once in understanding. "An interesting fact, doctor. I was not aware of that."

"Maybe you should encourage her to keep record of her dreams," Zareel suggested.

"She has a dream diary at home," Hardister said, and the three doctors turned to the door to see Lucy's father leaning in the doorframe, his gray eyes focused on his sleeping child. "She writes in it all the time."

"Then encourage her to keep that habit," Zareel pressed, "if you say dreams tell you humans what you fear."

"I'll do what I can," Hardister said. It pained Zareel to hear the man's tired voice; Steward tossed his PADD aside and directed a chiding glare at Lucy's father.

"Gabriel, I told you to get some sleep," he said softly. "We'll make sure your daughter is ok. But you haven't slept in 32 hours. Go. Sleep now," he pressed, his voice growing hard.

Hardister shook his head. "She only sleeps for a few hours a day, and even that is fitful. I've come to see if she's slept more."

"She's been asleep for three hours, Gabriel," Steward said. "And we'll put her under if we have to."

Strom set his PADD in his lap. "Does your daughter often experience nightmares, Dr. Hardister?"

The human doctor shook his head. "No, she always says her dreams are boring. Like being late to class or trying to get to her grandmother's house and never getting there. Stuff like that."

Steward sighed. "Horrible way to get more interesting dreams..."

"What way is that?" the Vulcan asked, a confused expression on his face.

"Well, whatever happened to her, I guess."

Hardister sighed. "So she's dreaming now?"

Steward nodded. "Went into REM about an hour ago. She's been flopping around under those covers ever since. I'm about ready to give her a sedative."

Hardister walked over and glanced at the monitor, then nodded and sighed. "If you believe you've got it under control here, then I will get some sleep."

"Good man, Gabriel. We've got this."

The human doctor nodded again to everyone in the room, but paused at the door to look back at his daughter one last time. Then he left, closing the door behind him.

…

The room was growing dimmer by the minute as the warm, brilliant sun of the Dekendi system sunk below the horizon. Strom sat in the shadows, absorbed in his thoughts. Steward and Zareel had decided to take a little time away from Lucy's case and eat dinner at a local restaurant, and Hardister was still sleeping, so Strom had volunteered to stay behind and watch over Lucy. She hadn't woken since falling asleep six hours ago, which was a very good thing according to Steward. The Vulcan doctor sat in the deepening twilight, and the darkness eventually forced him to turn on a lamp.

A few minutes after his fellow doctors had left for dinner (over an hour ago), Lucy had made unusually noises in her sleep. The blankets covering her were tangled and disordered in the wake of her fitful rest, and he could have sworn he heard her moaning a few times. And they didn't sound like moans of pain, no...her drawn-out groans made him turn to her sleeping form in complete confusion. What was she dreaming about that made her utter such...sensual noises? Even her movements mimicked that of a woman writhing beneath her lover, and the thought made Strom uncomfortable. But she fell silent and became still after a while, and he turned back to his thoughts.

Steward and Zareel returned after two hours, and Strom promptly sent them both to where they were staying, citing that he would not really need to rest for another eight days. They let him have the night shift and departed, but not before Zareel fetched him some tea.

"Are you hungry, doctor?" the Denobulan asked before heading to the hospital dining hall. Strom shook his head.

"Some tea will do."

Zareel nodded and quickly brought the Vulcan his tea, then left with Steward. The room was wonderfully silent, and Strom folded his hands and submersed himself in his evening mediation.

The evening passed without incident, but two hours after midnight, he heard a gasp beside him. Lucy opened her bright hazel eyes and glanced around at the ceiling, confusion spreading over her features, and Strom quickly rose from his seat and sat on the bed at her side.

"Ms. Hardister?"

She sat up slowly and glanced at him, and he expected her to shrink away as she did before. But she surprised him, only hesitating a minute before a wide grin graced her lips. However, the warm and inviting smile was overtaken by another bout of confusion, and she glanced around in bemusement.

"Where am I?" she whispered. Strom poured her a glass of water and handed it to her, which she accepted without question or protest.

"You are on Dekendi III, in a hospital not far from the Inter-Species Medical Exchange Conference. I'm Dr. Strom. Your father is sleeping at the moment, but I can call for him if you wish."

She stared at him. "Why am I here?" Her voice was flat, expressionless.

He frowned and watched her guzzle the water, then set the empty glass on the bedside table. "You truly do not remember what happened to you?"

It was her turn to frown, and she stared at him, bewildered. "I remember a corridor."

"The corridor you were found it, you mean? The one on the ground level of the conference center?"

She nodded. "Then...darkness. And now here."

Strom stood and walked to the comm near the door, then contacted a nurse, ordering her to fetch Dr. Hardister. Then he returned to his seat by Lucy's bed.

"You were on _Enterprise _for three days, Ms. Hardister. I visited you along with Dr. Oratt and Dr. Yuris. Do you remember me?"

She stared at him for several seconds, then a light of recognition sparked in her eyes, but was gone within two seconds.

"You sound familiar," Lucy mumbled, tilting her head to one side. "And your eyes..." She paused, then shook her head. "Out of a dream, maybe..."

"I assure you, we have met before." He hesitated, then continued on. "You reacted...quite adversely to my presence."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You tried to strike me, but I managed to prevent you from doing so. And you examined me...you looked into my eyes and calmed down. At least, your violent intentions towards me seemed to disappear."

She gazed down at the tangled blankets, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Blue eyes..." she whispered. Her palms were facing up, and she stared down at them as if the answers she sought were written on her skin.

"Do you remember me?" he pressed, leaning slightly toward her.

She shook her head and remained silent, seemingly fixated with her hands. "Brown eyes..."

Strom breathed in quickly, then leaned further forward. "Do you remember Dr. Yuris? My young Vulcan colleague from whom you fled? He has brown eyes."

She was silent, still staring at her hands, and Strom looked up when Dr. Hardister hurried through the door. He stopped mid-stride and stared at Lucy, who glanced up and smiled at him.

"Hey dad," she said calmly, lifting a hand to wave at him in greeting.

Her father's eyes filled with relief, and he slowly approached her bed, never taking his eyes off of her. "How long has she been awake?"

"Only about five minutes. She seems much more aware of her surroundings then when we last met, but she cannot recall the events after she awoke from her coma."

Hardister frowned, and Lucy turned to Strom with a curious gaze. "Do I have amnesia?"

The Vulcan doctor quirked an eyebrow at her and managed a small smile. "It appears that you do. You're sure you can't remember waking up from your coma? You don't remember me, or Dr. Yuris, or Dr. Oratt?"

Her eyes darkened. "Gray hair...brown eyes...arrogant."

Hardister laughed, and Strom fixed him with a stern gaze, then turned to Lucy again. "You are, of course, free to your own opinion, Ms. Hardister, but he does indeed have gray hair and brown eyes. I assume this means you remember him?"

She glared at the covers. "Oatmeal."

He was utterly confused to her meaning, but her father seemed to understand her. "Yes, he made you eat your breakfast. Remember that, Lucy?"

She nodded, her expression cold. "Arrogant," she murmured, apparently talking to herself. The human habit fascinated Strom, and he tilted his head, his interest peaked. "Respond to that overbearing, good-for-nothing, pompous-"

"Lucy," her father chided. "That's enough. We get the point."

The Vulcan doctor simply raised an eyebrow and stared pointedly at Lucy, but he stood and straightened his clothes. Hardister stepped forward.

"I can watch her from here, doctor. Thank you for volunteering for this."

Strom nodded politely. "I will see you later today," he said curtly, then turned to Lucy again. "And it is good to see you awake and unafraid of me. I never wished to cause you discomfort, and I certainly did not want you to fear me. I assure you, I am not here to hurt you, but to help you."

She stared blankly at him for a moment, then her expression transformed into a joyful grin. She raised the _ta'al_, and he raised both eyebrows before returning the gesture.

"I will also see you later today, Ms. Hardister. The gesture is appreciated, but you haven't seen the last of me yet," he said, injected a tiny note of warmth in his voice. Her grin widened and she clapped her hands together in apparent glee. Seeing her happy in his presence instead of terrified was a definite improvement, but her careful and limited choice of words concerned him.

However, there were other things he needed to attend to, so he bid the pair farewell and caught a transport back to the conference center.

…

"I'm pleased you made progress with her, Strom," Yuris said later that morning when they shared tea again. The conference was drawing to a close, and they still had work to do, but the two of them were taking a break so Strom could relay Lucy's new status to him. It had...relieved him to hear that the human girl had smiled at his colleague, had returned somewhat to her former self.

"I met Dr. Zareel early this morning, and he was eager for an update on her as well," Strom continued. "It was strange...he laughed when I said she had smiled at me. He seemed quite pleased."

Yuris frowned. "Laughed how?"

His colleague breathed out a slow breath. "I am no expert in emotions, Yuris. I could no more categorize Dr. Zureel's feelings beyond the simplest of terms than you could."

Yuris nodded. "It is good to hear that she is better, in any case."

Strom was silent for a moment. "She raised the _ta'al_. When I left her this morning."

The younger Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Dr. Zureel informed me that Lucy is...fond of alien culture. He even went so far as to categorize her as a xenophile."

Their conversation was interrupted when Oratt strode in. He briefly advised them that Archer had demanded a hearing for T'Pol, and that it would take place the following afternoon; when Strom questioned if such a hearing were legal, Oratt confirmed (albeit reluctantly) that this legal procedure was in the protocols of the Council of Physicians.

The senior physician had plenty of work to do and soon left them alone again, and Strom rose and straightened his shirt, prepared to follow Oratt out the door.

"Are you going to see Lucy again?" Yuris asked before Strom left his desk.

The older doctor nodded. "Yes, this evening I will check on her progress. But there is work to do here, and the hearing to prepare for. The subcommander may have the right to protest, but it won't do her any good. But if you'll accompany me, I could use your assistance on the vaccine research from the Rigelians."

"Certainly," Yuris replied, burying his disappointment and seething anger beneath a veneer of calm. It pleased him that T'Pol had chosen to fight, but the question still remained: at this hearing, would he continue to live this lie that his colleagues had been fed for years? Or would he defend T'Pol, do what was right and make an attempt to rectify his colleagues' prejudices?

The hearing wasn't until tomorrow. He would meditate on this tonight, and decide where he wanted to stand.


	8. Unmasked

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thanks so much to SavanaSahara, dettaarsvenka and snapeissexy for reviewing!**_

"The fact that she has Pa'nar Syndrome is not the reason she's being recalled," Strom said calmly, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"No," Captain Archer agreed, "it has to do with how she got infected. A mind-meld, over a year ago."

"When it took place is not pertinent," Strom countered. Yuris glanced over at him and narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling the now-familiar irritation at Strom's patronizing tone.

Archer bowed his head, but remained calm and collected. "So what you're saying is that if a Vulcan," he paused and glanced up at them, "engages in this...exchange of thoughts and memories, they're condemned for it?"

"As you've been told, captain," Oratt reiterated, his tone surprisingly patient, "mind-melds are practiced by a subculture, Vulcans who have elected to conduct themselves in an unacceptable manner."

Yuris glared at him, containing his outrage, his fury beneath a calm veneer, as had become his habit over the last few days. He would have to meditate after this hearing...

"They haven't elected to do anything," T'Pol retorted, her voice calm and cold. "They're born with this ability."

A surge of gratitude washed over him, and he barely raised an eyebrow at her before turning to hear Strom's reply.

"Exactly," the older doctor said, his tone still self-assured and patronizing. "They're genetic aberrations who prey on people like you, people foolish enough to experiment with abhorrent behavior."

Yuris found it ironic that only a few days ago, Strom was assuring him that he valued his opinion, that Yuris had insight that he did not, and yet the older physician was reasserting his friendship with a genetic aberration who was, in the High Command's view, a shame to all of Vulcan.

"You humans are too volatile, too...irrational, too narrow-minded," Archer growled, standing quickly and pacing behind his table. "That's what I've heard for years, from every Vulcan I met. But we don't hold a candle to you when it comes to narrow-minded!" Yuris couldn't help but silently agree. "We got rid of bigotry nearly a century ago. We're not afraid of diversity. We don't persecute it, we embrace it!"

Yuris glanced down at his folded hands, astonished at the truth in the captain's words, the truth that was rocking him to his core. How long had his people bore the banner of IDIC on their sleeves, yet had scoffed at and punished deviations from the so-called "correct path"? What did the words mean, in truth? How could his people preach that diversity was to be embraced and celebrated, yet cast out its own members for something as ludicrous as a genetic aberration?

"If you call yourselves enlightened, you have to accept people who are different then you are!" the captain continued.

The answer to his dilemma became astonishingly clear. It was time to step out of the shadows and face the light of truth, come what may. He was tired of hiding from his colleagues, from his people, and if more of the minority spoke out against this oppression, perhaps his people would be more apt to listen to their words. It was no crime to be different, to have an ability inherited at birth. What had he done wrong? He was no less a Vulcan for being a melder, and it was time Oratt and Strom saw that.

"This is pointless," Strom protested, bringing Yuris out of his revery. "A culture is governed by rules. We're not about to ignore them."

Yuris was on the verge of retorting when T'Pol countered Strom's argument with flawless ease. "There are no rules telling you to oppress minorities," she said icily.

The youngest physician had been wondering why T'Pol had chosen to fight, yet in all this time she had not revealed what had truly happened to her. But now it was clear: she was here to defend _him_, the minority, to denounce their people's prejudices just as he longed to do. Solidarity and gratitude nearly overwhelmed him, but he took a calming breath and gathered himself and his thoughts. It was time.

"You'd rather let them spread their infections!" the gray-haired doctor retorted, and Yuris glared at him in earnest, choosing not to hide his true opinion of their prejudice. "That's _exactly_ why you're being recalled."

"No, I'm being recalled because you're afraid of anything that doesn't conform to your idea of 'acceptable behavior'."

Yuris tilted his head, intrigued at her insight into the High Command's motivation for their oppression of descent. Was it simply primal fear of the unknown, of the unfamiliar? It all seemed laughable in that moment, the High Command giving in to a primitive instinct, but Yuris focused on the task at hand.

"Unfortunately, you don't know what you're talking about." Strom retaliated with what Yuris assumed was familiar to him: patronization and superiority. But the younger physician would soon see that shattered. "The decision's been made," Strom continued, turning to Oratt. "We should end this inquiry."

"She knows exactly what she's talking about." Yuris spoke for the first time, his mind finally at ease, his objective finally clear. It was time to end this charade.

Oratt twisted around to face the junior physician, looking affronted, almost offended that the younger Vulcan would speak out of turn. "Are you questioning our judgment?" the senior Vulcan challenged.

"There is nothing abhorrent about the way we lead our lives." Yuris felt a thrill of pride shoot through him before he suppressed it, but he allowed himself a millisecond to appreciate the shock on his colleagues' faces as he finally revealed the truth.

"We?" Strom repeated, as if he hadn't quite grasped the gravity of Yuris' statement. Oratt, on the other hand, seemed to comprehend him fully, but that did not stop the shock from spreading over the senior physician's features.

"There is no simple definition of intimacy," he continued, his words firm, his voice calm yet compelled. "Those of us capable of mind-melds are no different then you are."

The patronizing, self-assured look on Strom's face was certainly gone, replaced by hurt, betrayal, and deep shock. Yuris realized belatedly that Strom had had no idea of who he really was, but Oratt had always seen Yuris as beneath his notice, and this admission was yet another reason to think him below the senior physician. But Strom, having known Yuris for nearly twenty years now, would certainly see this as a harder blow, a deeper betrayal.

What had to be done had to be done. Yuris could no longer feed his colleagues lies, and it was time for change on Vulcan. With people like Archer and T'Pol on his side, perhaps he could see that change come about. His only regret was that he might lose Strom's friendship in the fallout that was sure to follow this.

"You realize that you're jeopardizing your reputation, your career!" Oratt nearly shouted, perhaps trying to make the younger Vulcan take back his words. But there was no turning back now.

"We share our thoughts differently," he continued, undaunted by the look of clear displeasure on his superior's face, and only slightly daunted by the pain still resting in Strom's eyes. "We shouldn't be punished for that."

Oratt narrowed his eyes for a second, then held his head high. "The High Command will determine whether you should be punished, both of you!"

The obvious undercurrent of outrage beneath the senior physician's voice was still not enough to stop Yuris. He knew now that his career was in shambles, but there was still time to save T'Pol. She had, after all, come here solely to defend him and melders, even when she had been violated by one. He owed her much, and he hoped his next admission would be enough to save her.

"She's not guilty of anything," he said, standing straight and proud. "She was violated."

Strom had turned immediately when he began speaking, as if he were willing to hear any statement, any admission if it saved Yuris. The thought filled the younger Vulcan with gratitude, but he avoided Strom's eye, directing his words to Oratt.

T'Pol leaped from her seat at his admission. "You gave me your word!" she ground out, barely concealing her shock. He fixed his gaze on her, hoping she could understand why he was doing this.

"The mind-meld was performed against her will," he continued, making T'Pol's innocence clear. This seemed to get Oratt's attention, as his gaze was now focused on the woman as well.

"Can you verify this?" Oratt asked T'Pol, a note of incredulity entering his voice. Yuris thought, hoped that T'Pol would take this opportunity and save her reputation, to take the gift he was offering her and leave it be. But her determination to defend him would not be swayed.

"Why?" she challenged. "So you can perpetuate your double standard?" Strom frowned at this, but he seemed speechless at the moment. "Condemn the infected when they meld by choice and sympathize with them when they don't?"

Oratt blinked, then turned to Archer. "What do you know of this, captain?"

Archer was defiantly, nearly shoulder to shoulder with T'Pol. "It seems my science officer doesn't want to discuss it." Yuris was once more filled with gratitude that the captain had made such a personal claim on T'Pol, reasserting his determination to see her name cleared. "That's good enough for me."

"She told me herself," Yuris said, turning to Strom, who immediately focused on his former colleague. Yuris had to make sure that T'Pol was cleared. "She made me promise to stay silent."

He turned back to T'Pol. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now. "I had to tell them the truth. You should do the same."

_Enterprise's _science officer was adamant. "I have nothing to say to them."

Yuris chanced a glance over at Oratt, who was staring at T'Pol, the outrage drained from his face. When the woman and the human made for the door, the senior physician stepped out of their way with the smallest of nods, and T'Pol and Archer exited the Vulcan section without another word. But after they had disappeared from his sight, Oratt rounded on Yuris.

His superior's jaw was tight, nearly fixed, and his words were stiff as he spoke. "You will be recalled to Vulcan, to stand trial before the High Command immediately following this conference."

Yuris raised his chin slightly. "Whatever you believe is necessary, I will do."

Oratt seemed surprised at the junior physician's calm acceptance of his fate. "We can, of course, convene again if you wish to defend yourself."

Strom stared ardently at Yuris, silently begging him to take this option, but there was nothing to be said. "I am not ashamed of what I am, and I have nothing to defend. I am a part of the minority, and I have said everything I need to. And now you must do what you believe is necessary, as is your duty."

Oratt clenched his jaw. "You're strangely collected for one who just threw away his career and reputation. I assume you also suffer from Pa'nar? Perhaps that is why you became a doctor?"

"I became a doctor because my parents wished it, but I find peace in helping others. But as to your first inquiry, I am not infected. Only a small percentage are. If you would dedicate your resources and knowledge to finding a cure for this disease, that percentage could perhaps become nonexistent. You have the tools necessary to curing Pa'nar, and yet you refuse to use them."

"It is not for you to dictate how we use our resources," Oratt countered. "And it is not for you to dictate correct behavior to us. _We _are aware of what is right and what is wrong, but that distinction seems to have escaped you."

"No, Oratt," Yuris said firmly, refusing to back down. "It is _you _who are blind. Where is the logic in persecuting me for something I cannot change?"

The senior physician simply narrowed his eyes. "I will contact the High Command immediately, and I will see you suspended. You will most likely lose your standing with the Medical Exchange. Are you certain you will not defend yourself?"

"What purpose would that serve? I have told you that I am a melder, and that I am not ashamed of that fact. There is nothing to defend, since I have admitted openly to what I am. And I doubt you would hear my words."

Oratt yanked open the door and stormed out of the meeting room, but Strom remained, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Strom," Yuris began, sitting down and inviting his friend to sit beside him. "Oratt may not hear my words, but I believe you will. We have much to discuss, and little time to do so. Please sit."

Strom hesitated, but after a moment's pause, he slowly returned to the table and sat in Oratt's seat. "So this is why you thought Lucy had been forced to meld."

Yuris nodded. "How could I not know the effects of an ability I've had all my life? Yes, Strom, I still firmly believe that she was coerced. And that is why I ask you...I beg you to go with her to Earth. It would be...a great comfort to know an honorable Vulcan is standing guard over her."

Strom's eyes brightened at the compliment, but he shook his head. "I will concede that the evidence for your theory is compelling, but how could they have entered this building? The Dekendi are efficient in their security measures."

"You underestimate our people, Strom," Yuris replied calmly. "With all of our abilities at his disposal, is it so implausible to think that he could have disabled an alarm, or overwhelmed the guards somehow? If he were bent on breaking in, I'm sure...I know he succeeded."

Strom stared at his hands. "But why?"

Yuris paused. "I have looked into _Enterprise's _logs. I obtained them from Phlox, particularly involving any contact with Vulcan ships." He paused again. "A year ago, they encountered a V'tosh ka'tur ship, near a nebula. They were in contact for several days."

Strom's eyes darkened. "One of them...T'Pol..."

Yuris nodded. "I believe that is where that abhorrent event took place."

The older Vulcan frowned. "You have freely admitted to being part of the minority, yet you-"

Yuris held up a hand. "To force oneself on another, Strom? To invade one's privacy by coercion? That is an act I would never condone, and in ancient times that crime was met with death."

The older Vulcan was still nonplussed. "What does this have to do with Ms. Hardister?"

Yuris breathed in a calming breath. "To force a meld on another is to exert control over them. If T'Pol, an officer in the Science Directorate, a Vulcan female surrounded by security, could be forced to submit to such a person, how do you think Lucy would have fared? With her naivete, her blind trust of our people, her xenophilia?"

Strom glanced down at his hands again. "You believe he may return."

The younger Vulcan sighed. "Yes, I fear that. And I believe he is V'tosh ka'tur, perhaps the same that attacked T'Pol."

Strom gazed at Yuris, still confused. "I don't follow you."

Yuris sighed again. "Although I sympathize with the V'tosh ka'tur's plight, I do not believe that what they are doing is correct, and I am...relieved they have removed themselves from Vulcan society. I do not believe that they are wrong in exploring mind-melds, but for a Vulcan to allow such blatant displays of emotion...I do not like it, Strom."

A heavy silence fell between them, and finally Yuris spoke again.

"I apologize for not revealing the truth about myself earlier. I hope I have not lost your friendship over this."

Strom closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with a calming breath. "You have been a great help to me for many years, and yes...I do consider you my friend." He was quiet for a second. "I do not want our friendship to be dissolved like this. I...value your judgment...and you."

Yuris dared not raise his eyes to meet Strom's lest the older Vulcan see the strong emotions awash in his eyes, and when he did dare glance sideways towards his friend, he saw Strom's eyes were closed, as if he were struggling to compose himself.

"I have always valued you and your friendship, Strom," Yuris admitted. "Please do not think less of me for what I am."

"How can I?" Strom breathed. "No, Yuris...I say this in confidence to you...hear me now, my friend, I doubt I could ever associate abhorrent behavior with you or your person..." He sighed and trailed off, and Yuris was left confused.

"I...do not understand."

Strom finally opened his eyes and stared him straight in his eyes. "I do not understand what you are, Yuris, and I do not understand now where I stand in all of this...but you are my friend, and I will consider you my friend until such time that you refuse my brotherhood."

Yuris nodded and carefully laid a hand on Strom's shoulder. "Brother?"

Strom straightened his shoulders. "_My brother in healing, and my chosen brother, now and always_."

It took every ounce of control that Yuris possessed to not give in to the waves of gratitude that were spreading throughout his body. He nodded once to his brother and removed his hand from his shoulder, then took a deep breath. "Lucy," he said simply, bringing them back to the subject at hand.

Strom nodded. "I will speak to Oratt. Please understand that I will want to confirm your theory, and that requires a considerable amount of testing."

"Contact Phlox and consult with him. He did the initial scans on her, and I find his conclusions sound."

Strom nodded. "I will do that as soon as possible...and what about you?"

"I will stand trial," Yuris said calmly. "And then I will devote myself to continuing research on Pa'nar Syndrome, to finding a cure."

He saw Strom's mouth lift upward slightly. "Then, as the humans say, I wish you luck, brother."

Yuris allowed himself a small smile. "Attach yourself to Lucy. Stay next door to her, or under her father's roof if you can. I will talk to Dr. Hardister and encourage him to accept you into his home. She is too easy a target, and it would be best to have someone watching over her at all times."

"I will do my best. For you, brother."

He nodded in gratitude, then relaxed his shoulders. "I fear for her...I fear what she may have to face."

Strom's expression grew worried. "You believe he is nearing..."

Yuris closed his eyes. "Nothing is certain."

The older Vulcan glanced down at his hands. "Would you like an escort back to the hotel?"

His brother nodded. "If you are that escort, then that would be acceptable. There is one last matter, though...may I keep your correspondence?"

Strom looked up at him with a warm gleam in his eye. "I would be...disappointed if you did not. And besides, you seem to understand Lucy and humans better than I. I will need all the assistance I can get."

Yuris nodded and stood, then walked side by side with his brother to the transport station.

_**A/N: **I couldn't bring myself to break up such a rad bromance, so Yuris and Strom are still besties in my eyes. And I promise we will see a little of Soval in the next chapter._


	9. Contrite

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to maba7x, dettaarsvenska, SavanaSahara and dinopoodle for reviewing! And thank you so much to Fameanon for letting me bounce ideas off her. :D**_

Phlox reviewed Yuris' data on Pa'nar Syndrome for the tenth time, trying to find a pattern that he could use to develop a cure. He had noticed something earlier and was currently extrapolating on his hypothesis when he heard the door open.

He was surprised to see Strom standing there, looking contrite and very uncomfortable. Phlox stiffened.

"How can I help you, doctor?" the Denobulan said coldly. Strom stepped closer and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

"May I have the data you've collected on Lucy?" he finally asked. Phlox had never seen a Vulcan act like this, almost afraid, like they might be refused or rejected.

The Denobulan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"So I can confirm it and develop an appropriate treatment for her, whether that be counseling or whatever is needed." He sounded more confident now, and strangely engaged, as if he truly cared about the case. T'Pol had told him about Yuris and his dismissal, and the thought occurred to Phlox that Strom may have been severely shaken by the hearing.

"How close were you and Yuris?" Phlox asked gently, his expression softening.

Strom sighed. "I have known him for twenty years, and in that time I have never doubted him. I'm not about to do so now, especially when Lucy's safety may be at stake. Yuris suggested I collaborate with you and review the data you collected when she came on board."

That was good enough for Phlox. The Vulcan was obviously affected by Yuris' dismissal, and perhaps he was taking care of Lucy for his sake.

"Tell me, doctor," the Denobulan said as he downloaded the information onto a PADD. "Why are you taking Lucy's case? Or are you helping Oratt?"

"I am taking Lucy's case because Yuris asked me to. I will return to Earth with her and help her there."

Phlox raised an eyebrow. "From the Vulcan Consulate?"

Strom shook his head. "I am not sure. Her family lives near Denver, Colorado, and we believe it would be best for me to stay close to her. Yuris is discussing this with her father now."

The Denobulan handed him the PADD, and Strom nodded to him. He looked like he might say something more, but he turned and walked out of sickbay after murmuring a farewell.

Phlox shook his head and turned his attention back to the data on Pa'nar Syndrome.

…

Strom heard her laughter as soon as he entered the wing she was housed in, and he walked toward it, intrigued. Yuris had just left him to go back to their hotel (he was leaving with Oratt in the morning), but the former doctor had reported that Hardister was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep Lucy safe. Yuris hadn't divulged details for Strom's sake, but he had informed her father that someone may try and hurt her, and that Strom could protect his daughter if he allowed him to stay close. Hardister apparently hadn't put up much of a fight, even if he had expressed displeasure at having a Vulcan like Strom in his home. But for Lucy, he had decided to be gracious.

He walked into Lucy's room and saw her surrounded by visitors: Dr. Zareel, Dr. Phlox, Dr. Oratt, her father, and two Dekendi nurses who were in charge of looking after Lucy's vitals. She was playing an instrument for those gathered, a wooden box curved into what humans called a 'pear shape', but the box had a long shaft of wood connected to one end, and the instrument was equipped with strings. When he entered the room, she stopped and grinned at him.

"Daddy!" she said cheerfully, addressing her father. "We've got ourselves a proper xeno party! We're outnumbered two to one, and it's glorious!"

Hardister, who was sitting on the bed with his daughter, gave Strom an appreciative smile and stroked Lucy's hair. "I guess your birthday came early this year."

She laughed, but did not reply. She continued to play her instrument, plucking the taut strings, and Strom sidled over to Oratt. "How long have you been here?" he asked quietly. The elder physician did not seem particularly pleased to be here, and he had noticed his expression had deepened into displeasure at the sound of Lucy's laughter.

"Nearly thirty minutes. Hardister insisted I come, but I plan to leave soon."

"What instrument is that?"

"Guitar," Oratt whispered curtly, rising to his feet. "She is playing folk melodies from the Andalusian region of Spain on Earth. If you'll excuse me, I must meet with the High Command in one hour to discuss Yuris' trial."

Strom opened his mouth to reply, but whatever response he might have said was drowned out by applause, and Oratt took the opportunity to disappear out the door. Strom took his seat and watched Lucy play. She seemed content as she played guitar, calmer than usual, and more focused. It apparently was beneficial to humans to listen to or create music, as he remembered from the course he had taken on human psychology. She seemed most like the Lucy he would have met before the attack as she continued through another Andalusian folk melody, a blooming young woman, taking her first steps into adulthood with confidence and grace. He wanted to give that confidence and grace back to her...

He would see it done. He would help her in any way he could, for Yuris, but mostly for the innocent young woman who had come under the influence of a crazed Vulcan, who had been raped and shell-shocked, yet despite it all still played guitar for a group of aliens with a smile on her face.

…

Soval leaned back in his chair and pondered Yuris' message. A V'tosh ka'tur on Dekendi III had attacked a human girl, and might come after her here to Earth. He had never met this doctor, but since the man identified himself from the start as a melder, and said that he was trying to find a cure for Pa'nar Syndrome, and if such a man (who had freely admitted to being a melder and saved T'Pol from being recalled) was against the V'tosh, then Soval would support him.

His first priority was to contact Earth security and set them on the lookout, so to speak, and next would be to contact security in the Denver area, just to make sure this abhorrent Vulcan did not reach the city or its outskirts.

But his second priority...he would compose a letter of thanks to Yuris, for keeping T'Pol on _Enterprise _and sacrificing his career in the process.

However, before he did that, he needed to have Lucy put in for a proper psychiatric evaluation, to make certain there was no permanent damage done to her synapses. Melds could be an ugly business if done incorrectly, but to be forced into one would be traumatizing for anyone.

He paused, then pressed the comm button. "Send Dr. Fer'at to my office, please."

…

Lucy had been examined by Fer'at, who, after collaborating with Dr. Strom, determined that Lucy was suffering from amnesia (cause unknown) and was at risk for PTSD. More sophisticated scans showed that her synaptic pathways had been hyper-stimulated, along with her amygdala (responsible for processing fear). Strom would continue to run scans and watch for signs of PTSD, but first Soval wanted to talk with her.

She seemed nervous when he walked into the briefing room on the ground floor of Starfleet Medical, and as she looked around and saw no one with him, her nerves seemed to double.

"Ambassador," she squeaked, raising a shaky _ta'al_. "It's an honor to meet you."

He returned the gesture, and she smiled weakly. The ambassador sat down in the chair at the head of the table, right next to her, and he folded his hands neatly on the table.

"It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable," he said gently, looking into her eyes. "I am simply here to ask you a few questions."

She stared at him a moment, then nodded. "Ok."

"First of all, are you sure you don't remember anything about your attacker?"

She shook her head. "The last thing I remember is walking down that corridor. Then everything goes blank...how did they attack me?"

Soval opened his mouth to answer, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. "You truly cannot remember?"

She frowned, then her eyes widened. "You mean he...um..."

"The doctors said there was no evidence of...physical assault. The violation you apparently endured was of a...mental nature."

Lucy stared at him, nonplussed. "I don't understand."

Soval squirmed under her curious gaze. It was hard enough to discuss this matter with other Vulcans, but with a human...she deserved to know. She had the right to know. This abhorrent man had taken her memory, traumatized her...it was no less a crime because she didn't remember. He owed her an explanation.

He sighed. "Please understand that this subject is difficult to discuss, even among Vulcans, and there are very few outsiders who know of this practice."

She looked appalled. "If you don't want to talk about it-"

"Please, Ms. Hardister, I must. I...we...owe you an explanation."

Lucy shook her head. "You owe me nothing."

Soval opened his mouth to retort, but she kept going. "It makes you uncomfortable. Besides, I feel fine."

"That's beside the point," he countered, "on both accounts. You should be informed about what happened to you, Ms. Hardister."

He paused, but she offered no protest. "You were subjected to a mind-meld, and your amnesia and subsequent risk for stress disorders are a direct cause of this...because you were forced."

Soval waited for her to process the information, but her expression was blank. "I feel fine," she repeated softly, looking down at the table. "I don't remember."

"All due to your amnesia. Now I need to know if you remember anything about your attacker, anything at all. We know he was Vulcan, but do you remember anything else about him? Hair color? His eyes?"

She frowned and shook her head.

"Dr. Strom tells me you've been avoiding male Vulcans with dark hair and brown eyes," the ambassador pressed. "Did he have brown hair?"

She stared at the table with a confused expression.

"Did he have brown eyes?"

"I can't remember," she breathed, her voice suddenly strained. "I'm sorry."

He nodded and stood. "If you remember anything, tell Dr. Strom. I've given him authorization to stay outside the Consulate, and as I understand it, he'll be residing with you and your family. He'll be there with you, should anything arise."

Lucy stared down at the table. "I'm sorry I can't remember."

"There is no need to apologize. We want you to be well, and we'll continue to look for your assailant."

Her lack of emotional response was unnerving, but the doctors had said that numbness was normal in cases like these. Still, he thought he would have seen tears or anger or something, and to see her so expressionless didn't seem right. He was worried for her, but he could only hope that Strom could take her case from here. He had been told that the doctor was one of the best in the Inter-Species Medical Exchange, and he believed Lucy's odds of recovery were high with such a man to help her.

He could only hope this was the case, because he had to turn his attention to apprehending her attacker, to bringing this vile being to justice.

"Your father will be in shortly to take you home," Soval concluded, standing. "I'll take my leave of you."

She nodded. "Thank you, ambassador. It was nice to meet you." Her voice might have suggested otherwise, had he been inclined to search for offense in her words, but she was emotionally compromised, psychologically damaged, so her words should be taken at face value. It wasn't his place to judge her.

He raised the _ta'al_, and she returned the gesture with a wavering smile. "I guess I'll see you again sometime."

"When we bring him to trial, yes," he replied. "Good day, Ms. Hardister."

…

The Hardister home was spacious, a sprawling two-story plantation-style house with gray siding and a black door. The front porch was a deeply-set alcove with black lacquered pillars holding up the overhang. A white porch swing creaked mournfully in the chilly breeze, and the dying leaves of the rosebush in the front border rattled, breaking the muted stillness of the smoky autumn air. The grass was yellow-brown, and it crunched beneath Strom's feet as he followed Lucy to the front door.

Upon entering the house, he found himself in an ample living room; a white-washed brick fireplace with a black mantle caught his eye immediately. The floors were a light-colored hardwood, but most of the floorspace was covered by a colorful rug. A large sectional was pushed against the wall, and a few armchairs resided in the corners, and almost every seat was occupied by a human. They all cheered and shouted their greetings to Lucy when she walked in, and he turned to her in time to see a watery smile break over her features.

A graying, middle-aged woman with long, black hair rushed forward and pulled Lucy into a strong embrace, and Strom could only assume that this was Mrs. Hardister. She had tanned skin like her daughter, only darker, and her eyes were bright hazel as well, and he could see Lucy took after her mother in stature and in physical appeal.

The Vulcan couldn't make out what Lucy uttered into her mother's chest, but crushed as she was, the muffled greeting was understandably lost in translation. Mrs. Hardister swiftly kissed her daughter's forehead and stepped back, and the other humans came forward to offer their relief that she was all right. News of Lucy's condition had apparently spread quickly through the Hardisters' social circle, and Strom guessed that this was simply the human way.

There were at least five adult males, most with wives at their sides. Two younger females hung in the corner, one was no older than fifteen, and the other was perhaps in her early twenties. The elder of the two was holding an infant.

The guests, being so occupied with Lucy, hardly noticed him lingering by the door until the young woman broke away from the crowd and returned to him. She lightly prodded him forward, offering him the sincerest smile he had seen on her face all week, and turning to the guests gathered, she introduced him.

"Mom," she said in a quiet voice, "this is Dr. Strom."

Lucy whispered something more to her mother, but Strom couldn't understand the language she used. Mrs. Hardister's hand twitched forward as if she wanted to clasp his hand, but Lucy's words stopped her. Strom smiled ever so slightly to himself and bowed his head in respectful greeting to his host.

"Doctor," Lucy continued, "this is my mother, Mina Hardister."

Her mother settled for bowing her head back to him, and Lucy set off naming everyone else in the room. The males were her uncles and her brother, Arturo, and their wives. Arturo was married to the woman in the corner (Lucy called her Lily), and the baby was their daughter, Gabriela. The other younger woman was Lucy's cousin, Maribel.

After the lengthy introductions, Dr. Hardister offered to take Strom's bag to the room he would be staying in, and after Lucy said something more to her mother, Mrs. Hardister swept back over to the guests and engaged them once more in conversation. After a few minutes, everyone's gaze slipped away from Lucy, and she turned to him with a soft smile.

She edged around the crowd and entered the kitchen on the other side of the room, then returned a few moments later bearing a cup. Strom thought she had fetched something for herself to quench her thirst, but he was surprised when she returned to him and handed him the beverage.

"Welcome to our home, doctor," she whispered. Her back was to the rest of her family and her gaze was locked with his, and under the watch of her bright hazel eyes, he drank the beverage. It was water.

He drained it in one go; she had only filled the cup a third of the way. Just enough for this ritual, and no more. But where had she learned it?

He handed the cup back to her, and she flashed him a pleased smile before escaping back into the kitchen. This time, he followed her.

She set the cup in the sink and turned towards him, presumably to go back to the gathering, but when she saw him standing there, she paused and smiled again.

"How did you know?" he murmured, stepping forward.

Her smile widened. "I'm a xenophile, remember?" She slipped past him, and he swore he felt the ghost of her fingers brushing his arm. He turned and followed her, and they were greeted at the base of the stairs (right beyond the doorway into the living room) by Dr. Hardister.

"You'll be in the guest room, right across from Lucy," the human doctor said, his cheery expression turning sober for a moment. "And the equipment from the Consulate should be here in two days."

Strom nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you, doctor, for inviting me into your home."

"Your presence honors us, Strom," Lucy murmured, and the Vulcan quickly turned to face her, but she slipped into the crowd before he could respond. Dr. Hardister watched her go, his expression confused, and the bewilderment on his face deepened when he turned back to Strom.

"Has your daughter ever taken a class on Vulcan culture, doctor?" Strom asked quietly. Dr. Hardister raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"Not that I'm aware of. She's always been fond of your people, but...I couldn't say she's familiar with your culture."

The Vulcan frowned at the floor. "I do not believe that is true, doctor...not anymore, in any case."


	10. Uncertain

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon, dinopoodle, dettaarsvenska and maba7x for reviewing!**_

_**A/N: I did degrees in Celsius, because Vulcans and United Earth citizens use Celsius.**_

Hardister thought the party went rather well. His family and in-laws were all quite delighted to see Lucy back among them, healthy and fairly happy. Mina had been rather busy, talking to lots of her relatives and his family about the situation. They had come together as a strong unit for Mina and Arturo during this period, and Hardister was glad at least some of it was over.

If it weren't for Yuris' express desire that Strom accompany him back to Earth, Hardister would have flat-out refused the Vulcan entrance into his home. He knew it was rude and probably not a good example of the ideas he was supposed to support, but Strom and Oratt had been so callous and cold toward his daughter. Far be it for him to invite such a cold man to live with him under his roof.

However, Yuris had nearly begged for this, and Hardister knew that if someone were to attack Lucy, having a Vulcan around wouldn't hurt matters. Yuris thought it was the best thing, and he was prepared to take his advice.

Lucy, on the other hand, was nearly pulsating in excitement at the prospect of living with a Vulcan. He could see in her eyes, in the smile she flashed the Vulcan doctor (and only to him, he noticed), in the way she leaned forward to listen to him speak. She was in heaven, and it made it all worth it just to see her so happy.

Hardister had realized during Lucy's coma that he was lacking in the parental department. He was always busy with work, and though he tried hard to make time for Mina, he was absent for long stretches of time, sometimes months, and he missed out on many milestones of his childrens' lives, particularly Lucy's. It was common knowledge that girls needed a strong father figure in their lives, lest they turn to dishonorable men to try and fill that void, and Hardister hoped with all his heart that he could somehow bridge the gap between him and Lucy, to make her understand that he might not have been there for her when she was younger, but he was here now.

Before the guests departed, Arturo presented his sister with her violin, which he had fixed for her while she was away. She accepted it with a sincere smile and immediately strode off to a corner of the room, then began tuning the strings. No one seemed to mind her behavior, and some of her aunts lightly implored her to play a song.

He noticed that now Strom was watching everything from the corner of the room, and Hardister felt a twinge of unease about the way the Vulcan seemed to exude coldness from his very pores. He knew Lily and Maribel had tried to engage him in conversation, but Lily had been deliberately dragged away by Arturo, and Maribel did not stay alone with the doctor for more than a few minutes before disappearing on the premise of getting a drink. No one else tried to approach him, and it seemed to suit Strom well. He didn't bother anyone, and no one bothered him, but it seemed like a chilly wind was sweeping through the house, freezing the otherwise cheerful gathering with quiet disdain.

But eventually the party was over, and the house empty, and Lucy went to her room to put up her violin. Strom hung uncertainly in the kitchen, and Hardister decided that if he was going to have this man in his house for a week or a month or however long, it would be best to be polite to him. A cheerful attitude wouldn't hurt anything and would probably make things easier. In a stunning moment of wisdom, he tried to put himself in Strom's shoes: a doctor far from home and far from what was familiar, far from anyone else who had a clue about his culture, assigned here to wait for an attack that may never come and symptoms that may never manifest. The polite thing to do, the human thing to do, would be to show him some compassion.

"Dinner will be ready in a few hours, doctor," Hardister offered with a slight smile. "Don't worry, my wife's a vegetarian."

He thought he saw relief shining in the Vulcan's eyes, but it was shoved under a mask of neutrality. "That is...a relief to know. I did not know how to approach the subject," his guest said honestly.

"You can thank Lucy. She made sure I knew before we even left Dekendi that if you were going to be in this house, meat was out of the question."

Strom nodded, and they both turned when they heard Lucy bounding down the stairs. She quickly offered to give Strom a tour of the house and of his room, and the two of them left him and Mina alone.

Mina sighed contentedly. "Have you ever seen her so happy?"

He shook his head. "I know she looks happy, but...honey, I can't help but think that something's wrong. She doesn't seem like herself."

His wife turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"She...knows things. It's weird, and I know even Strom is probably thinking something's up. He asked me if she had ever taken a course on Vulcan culture, and I know the most she knows of Vulcans are those videos she watched her sophomore year and second-hand accounts from the conference. And if the Vulcans aren't sharing much about their culture with humans, I doubt they'd share much with the Denobulans."

Mina frowned and turned to the fresher unit to start on supper. "I haven't noticed anything, but I'll keep an eye on her. Maybe you're underestimating her, Gabriel. She's a smart girl, and she may know more than you think."

Hardister nodded and retreated to his study, determined to get some work done before dinner.

…

"Shower on."

Strom frowned at the controls and tried pressing what he thought was a button, but nothing happened.

"Shower on," he repeated. The unit did not activate.

He sighed in exasperation and, in a fit of illogic, tried commanding the thing in Vulcan, but still the shower did not come online.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his body, determined to figure the unit out with logic and reason. He would not succumb to impatience.

"Need a hand?"

He could hear Lucy on the other side of the door, and he sighed in exasperation again. He didn't have time to dress himself, so he answered the door with the towel wrapped even tighter around him.

She didn't seem perturbed at his state of undress, but simply brushed past him and walked to the unit.

"It's an older model. Came with the house," she explained, pressing a few buttons. A stream of water rushed out of the showerhead. "Mom wants to get it replaced with sonics someday. How hot do you want it? Is 40 degrees warm enough?"

He nodded numbly. She turned a knob on the control panel, and he could see a screen light up to indicate the temperature of the water. She turned it up to 40, then turned to him.

"Turn it up hotter if you need to. I'll leave you to it, then."

For the second time that day, he felt her fingers brush his arm, and with no fabric in between their skin, her touch sent a light tingle racing down his spine. She closed the door without looking back, and after a few minutes of staring after her, he unwrapped the towel and placed it aside.

He cautiously placed his hand in the stream of water and was surprised to find that it felt pleasant. Slowly, he stepped into the shower and closed the door, and soon he could feel the pelting sensation all over his skin. It was therapeutic in a way, like a strange kind of massage, and he leaned back into the water to get his hair wet.

As the water pounded into him, his thoughts turned to Lucy, to the feather touch of her fingers on his arm. The shock of the skin-to-skin contact had sent a rippling spark through his veins, and he closed his eyes and suppressed a groan. His _pon farr _wasn't for another three or four months, but he realized now the danger he posed to Lucy, to this community, if he stayed longer than ten weeks. After week ten, he would have to return to Vulcan and face the raging demon locked away inside him. But at Lucy's touch...the beast had stirred, sniffed the air for the scent of a woman, shifted in its fitful sleep as her presence whispered past its sheathed claws. If he stayed here too long...

But Lucy was young, he told himself, not yet a woman.

_No, _the beast countered, _she's woman enough._

I'm her doctor, he protested. It wouldn't be appropriate. Nine or ten weeks I will stay here for her sake, but after that...

_And what of the man who hunts her? His beast is just as hungry as me, hungrier now because he has tasted her flesh, felt her presence fill his mind, luxuriated in the feel of her crushed to his body...and with you gone, there will be nothing to stop him from slaying her family and taking her for himself._

He halted his thoughts and quickly washed himself. Now was not the time to argue with his darker self, and to even listen to such beastly ideas was illogical and a waste of time. His energy should be spent in finding a cure for Lucy, not fretting over his impending Time. Ten weeks at the most he would stay here, for Lucy, and then he would have to leave.

…

The man's neck broke with a satisfying snap, and he stepped over the fallen corpse and accessed the terminal. He knew Lucy had been moved to Earth a few days ago, and he was currently in pursuit. But first he needed information, and the man at his feet was a minor delay, an obstacle easily removed. He used the man's rapidly cooling hand to access the database, then began his search.

He found several counterparts in this universe that he loathed in his: Maximilian Forrest (Maxwell here), Soval, V'Las...all traitors, enslavers and cowards. Forrest was a bloody tyrant, but even in his blood-soaked world the human was reluctant to take risks. Coward. Soval was nothing more than a puppet, and V'Las' talk of peace was simply sickening.

The only human worthy of their hide was his Lucy, his _adun'a_, his poor little lamb, lost without his guidance. His thoughts drifted to the latest dream he had sent her and he closed his eyes.

_Her tanned skin looked creamy and pale in the light of Earth's moon, and even in sleep, he recalled her exquisite scent. He pressed his nose into her neck, and she moaned loudly for him, leaning away to grant him access to her warm, smooth flesh...he longed to mark her as his, but he wanted to save that for when he was in her, to make it extra sweet..._

He swallowed thickly and concentrated on his task. Soon, he would be on Earth, and the dreams would become a reality.

…

Strom had just finished his evening meditation and was about to get ready for bed when he heard a knock on his door. He called for his visitor to enter and he rose to his feet.

Lucy walked in, a soft smile on her face and two brown lumps of fur in her arms.

"You haven't been introduced to my kittens, doctor," she explained the darker ball of fur jumped out of her arms, revealing two bright yellow eyes and a black nose, and two curved, pointed ears that swiveled forward as it looked at him.

"That's Truffle," she said, "and this is Mousse."

She held up the second furball, and it too had yellow eyes and a black nose. It mewled in protest and leaped to the floor, and she knelt down as the two creatures approached him.

"They're brother and sister, three months old. I thought you'd like to meet them."

The kitten she had named Truffle slowly padded across the room and slowed as it drew closer, and Lucy instructed him to hold out his hand. He doubted such tiny creatures could do him much harm. He obeyed.

Truffle's dark brown fur rose slightly as it sniffed his hand, its tiny nostrils flaring, but it purred in apparent approval and pressed itself urgently into his hand. Lucy smiled, and soon Mousse was approaching him as well. The second kitten had lighter brown fur streaked with white, and it curled in his lap as he sat back down. Truffle seemed intent on climbing his shirt until Lucy came forward and pulled the creature off of him, pinching the back of its neck to lift it. There was an excess amount of skin there apparently, and the kit mewled, but did not struggle. It curled up in midair as Lucy hissed at it and lightly bopped its nose with the heel of her hand.

"No, Truffle, we don't climb shirts." She hissed again, and Truffle purred. With a sigh, she returned the kitten to his lap, where Mousse had settled down, rumbling in contentment.

"They like you," Lucy said approvingly, scratching behind Mouse's ears.

"They are agreeable creatures," he agreed, stroking Truffle's back. It purred and snuggled its nose into the crook of his leg behind his knee. Agreeable creatures indeed.

Lucy giggled. "Judging by their reaction, I don't think they'd want to come back with me to my room."

Strom was quiet for a moment. "They are free to stay in here if they wish."

Mousse rolled over and stared up at him with its lantern eyes, and he scratched underneath its chin. His leg and fingers vibrated slightly with the depth of the kitten's contented purrs, and Lucy's smile widened.

"That's it, they love you now," she murmured, withdrawing her hand from Truffle and rising to her feet. "If you don't mind them on the bed with you, they'd love to sleep next to you."

Strom frowned. "They often sleep with you?"

"Every night."

He looked down at them. "I will take one and see if that is acceptable. You may take the other."

She grinned and picked up Truffle, who mewled and tried to squirm out of her grip. "Then I'll bid you and Mousse goodnight."

Lucy left him alone with her kitten, and the creature rolled over and stretched, flexing its tiny claws. The sight struck him as surprisingly endearing.

_It's not a _sehlat_, but it is an agreeable little creature._

He picked the kitten up and carried it to the bed with him, setting Mousse on the spare pillow, and he crawled underneath the covers, laying on his back. Mousse crawled onto his stomach and curled up there, and Strom stroked the little thing one last time before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

…

He landed the shuttle in an abandoned airport, the destruction of the last World War apparent around him. Birds and wild things had taken refuge here, but it was a good place to hide his vehicle and do a little reconnaissance. Lucy's family lived near Denver, in a quiet suburb practically in the wilderness. Very few people lived in that part of the outskirts, as it was a private, more expensive area of the region. All things considered, it was perfect for his purposes.

He knew immediately that he was being tracked. There were more security scans in Earth's orbit than he expected, but the dead man's ID card had proved most useful. He was simply a merchant who had done business with Earth's people numerous times, now returning for another business deal and perhaps some relaxation. A little bit of holographic manipulation had guaranteed that his stolen shuttle didn't get searched (he hadn't taken all those engineering classes for nothing), and with a little finesse and acting, he passed their security measures and was welcomed to Earth.

Now, in this abandoned old transportation station, he sat alone in the weak sunlight streaming through the roof, contemplating his next move. He would observe her family home and try to find an isolated area nearby where he could hide.

Soon, she would be his, and they could escape together and make a fresh start.


	11. Restrained

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon, dinopoodle, maba7x, SavanaSahara, dettaarsvenska and T'Sara for reviewing. T'Sara, I thought that was a typo. It's all good! All of you are wonderful, thank you so much!**_

Soval paced in his office, ignoring the glare of sunlight that hit his eyes when he crossed the beam of light in the middle of the floor. Eighty miles outside the Denver area, a maintenance worker had been killed, and authorities had found Vulcan DNA on the man's neck where it was snapped clean. Soval suspected that Lucy's V'tosh ka'tur assailant had slipped past Earth's defenses and was loose on the planet. The thought sickened him, to think that his humans (_the humans, _he quickly corrected) were threatened by a madman with three times their strength, a wealth of knowledge at his disposal and the ability to mind-rape anyone he saw fit to attack.

What was baffling about the entire thing was that although Soval had given them access to the Vulcan database, human authorities couldn't find a match. He found it highly unlikely that this man had escaped the registration process as a baby, so either he had erased himself from the database (highly unlikely, as security codes for the database were extremely complicated and required multiple authorizations to even access), or...

Soval had no answers. His logic failed him, because no logic could explain why this man was not in the database. He was prepared to contact Vulcan and have them collaborate with Earth authorities to try and track down this man, but only if no leads presented themselves.

His thoughts turned to the other thing that was bothering him regarding this incident.

"_You were subjected to a mind-meld, and your amnesia and subsequent risk for stress disorders are a direct cause of this...because you were forced."_

_He waited for her to process the information, but her expression was blank. "I feel fine," she repeated softly, looking down at the table. "I don't remember."_

To use the human expression, Lucy hadn't batted an eyelash at the fact that she was forced. She hadn't reacted at all. More than this, she hadn't even asked what a mind-meld was. Did her amnesia not extend as far as they thought? When melding with her, did he communicate to her what he was doing? Make her understand what a mind-meld was? He still had no answers.

Furthermore, her lack of emotional response to his admission that she was raped was also disturbing. He was no expert in human psychology (if he was, it probably would have saved him a lot of grief in dealing with these humans), but it seemed that numbness was not the reaction she should have exhibited. Confusion and denial were apparently consistent with trauma, but to wipe her face of emotion? That seemed wrong to him.

He paced a little more, trying to find a solution to this, and he finally sat down and pressed the comm button.

"Put me through to Dr. Strom at the Hardister household, please."

…

Mousse was purring contentedly on Strom's shoulder, having successfully climbed his pants leg two minutes ago. The light brown kitten dug its claws into his navy shirt, and he could hear the little creature sniff the air. A pot of _plomeek _broth boiled on the stovetop, and perhaps the kitten was curious about the foreign smell. It purred again, rubbing its miniature head against Strom's ear, and the doctor allowed himself a tiny smile. Mousse was an agreeable little thing, and having it here made his duty watching Lucy a little lighter.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to face Mrs. Hardister, who looked confused. Mousse jumped off his shoulder and padded quietly away to the other room, and he bowed his head briefly to the woman in greeting.

"What are you making?" she murmured, wrapping her housecoat tighter around herself.

"Breakfast," he said simply. "It is my duty as a guest in your household, for as long as I stay here."

Mrs. Hardister came closer to the stove and inspected the contents of the pot. "What is that?"

"_Plomeek _broth. It is a traditional breakfast on Vulcan."

"Ah," she said softly, then sniffed the air. "Smells good. You cook?"

He turned to her. "Not often. Mostly I eat in the cafeteria of whatever hospital or clinic I'm assigned to. But my mother did make sure I had the skills necessary to make my own food."

The human woman at his side smiled. "Are you married, doctor?"

He paused. "No. I have been on my own most my life."

She apparently got the message that he didn't want to talk about it, because she simply nodded and leaned against the counter.

"I've never had a Vulcan in my house before," she murmured. "And I've only met a few of your people, at IME conferences and functions. I don't know what to expect," she finished meaningfully. He set down the spoon he was using to stir the broth and turned fully to her.

"What do you mean, Mrs. Hardister?"

She paused and tilted her head. "First of all, please call me Mina. Mrs. Hardister sounds like a woman twice my age." She grinned, and he allowed himself a tiny smile in appreciation of her humor. "But as to my meaning...I don't know what you'll need. What you expect from us. I...just don't know. You can hardly blame me if I do something that offends you, as your people don't seem too eager to share your culture with us."

He stared at her for a long moment. "I am here to help your daughter, Mrs. Hardister. It is not my place to judge you or to disrupt your routine, and all I need you have already provided: a space to sleep and work, and my patient close at hand. I will attempt to be as unobtrusive as possible."

She nodded and set about making coffee (he remembered the smell from the Earth embassy in Shi'Kahr), and soon after he heard a beeping noise in the next room. Mrs. Hardister went to answer it, but returned after a few seconds.

"It's for you, doctor," she said softly. He followed her back to the comm unit, and she engaged the viewscreen, then left him alone.

"Ambassador," Strom said solemnly, bowing his head. He switched to Vulcan to offer the diplomat the proper greeting, and he raised the _ta'al_. The ambassador did the same.

"_How is Ms. Hardister_?" Soval asked. Strom sighed almost imperceptibly.

"_She appears well, but I know there is something wrong with her. She knows things a human girl her age should not know. And her speech seems...restrained. She seems odd._"

Soval raised an eyebrow. "_As you know, I talked with her before you departed San Francisco. I told her what little we know about the attack...and she did not react at all. She said nothing...showed nothing...please talk to her and examine this further._"

"_She is traumatized. I'm sure this odd behavior will dissipate soon enough._"

"_I'm no psychiatrist, doctor, so I'll defer to your judgment on this...but a seventeen-year-old human girl like her should have asked what a mind-meld was when I told her she was forced. She...brushed it off as if it were nothing._"

Strom nodded in understanding, finally comprehending the purpose of Soval's communique. "_I will speak to her. Is there anything else?_"

Soval shook his head, and they exchanged the traditional farewell. With the press of a button, the screen turned to black, and Strom wandered slowly back into the kitchen, deep in thought.

"Is Lucy still asleep?" he asked Mrs. Hardister. She shrugged.

"If she's not up, she's in her room. When will this broth be ready?"

He glanced at it. "Another five minutes or so. Shall I fetch your daughter?"

Mrs. Hardister chuckled. "Good luck getting that girl out of bed. Watch out for flying pillows."

Strom was left bemused at her statement, but he headed back up the stairs anyway.

Lucy's room was right across from his door, and he knocked lightly on the door, but heard no summons to come in. He opened the door a crack and peeked in; though the bedcovers were in disarray on the bed, Lucy was not lying among them.

He opened the door further and glanced around at the cloud blue walls. The door to her bathroom was open and the light was off. There was a chair in the corner, and her closet doors were closed. He noted a small journal open on the bed, and he walked up to it and glanced at it.

_09292152. Rcrring drm. C prev ent._

The code meant nothing to him, but it was only on this side of the room that he could see Lucy standing at the window on the other side of her bed. She was wearing a simple camisole that left her shoulders bare and ragged sweatpants that clung to her thighs before loosening below the knee, and he turned away; her attire, while casual and modest by human standards, left too little to the imagination for his tastes.

"Lucy," he said quietly. She didn't move.

He frowned and approached her slowly, diverting his eyes from the low cut of her top. "Lucy, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she murmured, still staring out the window. The morning sunlight lit up her face, but it cast shadows underneath her eyes. "Can I help you?"

He leaned toward the cool glass and lightly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

She didn't answer and didn't look at him. "Doctor, can I help you?"

"No, Lucy, there is nothing you can do to help me. I'm interested in _you_. Did you get any sleep last night?"

She shook her head. "I got some."

"How long, do you think?"

"Three hours," she murmured, absentmindedly tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "You fixed breakfast?"

He smiled ever so slightly as she turned to face him. "Yes, I did. Would you like some?"

"I'm not that hungry...but ok," she said softly.

He paused, not sure what to say, and she turned back to the window.

"Come down as soon as you're dressed."

"Ok."

It was little wonder Soval had gotten so little out of her. Her speech was truly restrained, and it seemed like she picked her words with caution, only saying what was necessary and nothing more. It was an admirable quality in and of itself, but it didn't make his job any easier. He needed her to speak freely to him, so he could help her come to terms with this attack and move on.

He sighed and left her alone.

…

Immediately following breakfast, Strom told Lucy to go to bed, and he helped Mrs. Hardister with the dishes. Silence fell between them after she explained the system of how they washed things here, but finally Strom cleared his throat and spoke.

"Why is your daughter so...fascinated by alien culture?"

Mrs. Hardister looked up at the wall, apparently deep in thought. "I've asked myself that question many times, doctor...don't get me wrong, I'm fine with whatever she likes to explore...it's just...Lucy never had many human friends growing up. She liked to devote herself to quiet pursuits...reading, writing, music, that sort of thing. Sometimes I think she pursues friendships with aliens to make up for the ones she missed as a child."

He nodded in understanding. "Her accomplishments are noteworthy, Mrs. Hardister."

She smiled. "She's a smart little thing. But her social skills have always been lacking. Strange...I also have the thought that she understands how aliens must feel coming here, being outcasts. And she knows what it's like to be an outcast, so she makes every effort to reach out to them, to relieve their loneliness, I guess...You've seen it already, doctor. She made sure I knew about the no-meat deal with you, and about touch. You saw how she told me not to shake your hand when you arrived."

"Yes," he acknowledged. "What language were you speaking?"

"I come from Mexico," she murmured, handing him a plate. "I speak Spanish, and so do Lucy and Arturo, my son. My husband only knows a little."

Silence fell between them again, and Strom pondered her words. _She makes every effort to reach out to them, to relieve their loneliness..._Those were dangerous words to speak to an unbonded male such as himself. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was lonely, but the thought of a lifelong partner was appealing. _She makes every effort to reach out to them, to relieve their loneliness..._Dangerous words indeed...the beast in him contemplated those words and growled, urging him to go to Lucy, to speak to her, seduce her...

_After all, _the beast in the darkest part of him whispered. _She's a xenophile. She loves Vulcans, and I know you aren't even sure if her gestures have been purely out of friendship. Perhaps she wants something more with you..._

He would not listen to the beast. He would put those words out of his mind and continue his work; she was less than half his age and was suffering from acute stress disorder. He couldn't think of a worse partner than a childish and overeager girl with long black hair that curled in fascinating ringlets and bright hazel eyes that lit up when he made her laugh...

He would not listen! Lucy would someday be an attractive woman to be sure, but he was not the man for her! She needed a man who...

He had no idea what kind of man she needed.

_Find out_, the beast purred seductively. _You may be exactly what she needs. You could be precisely what she wants._

She doesn't want an older man like me, he protested. I'm old enough to be her grandfather.

_By Vulcan standards, you are still young enough. And she smiles at you...you give her joy. Her touch sends an electric thrill through your veins and boils your blood. Wouldn't you like to feel that again?_

No! Strom countered. It is not appropriate! I will not approach her for anything of that sort, and I will cease this illogical line of thinking!

_Easier said than done, _the beast growled triumphantly, his parting blow making Strom wince a little.

"Doctor?"

Mrs. Hardister's voice brought him abruptly back to reality, and he glanced at her.

"You ok?"

He nodded quickly. "Simply thinking."

She raised an eyebrow, then handed him the last dish to rinse and dry.

…

The wind and the driving rain drove the chill into his bones, and he huddled miserably in the tiny bramble bush he had found at the base of the mountain. Authorities here were not as stupid as he thought, and apparently they had received a tip-off that he might be in the Denver area. No doubt _Ambassador _Soval had had something to do with it...just how a dullard like Soval had managed to get into the diplomatic arena and have some semblance of success was beyond him...

He pulled his woolen cap tighter around his ears and tried to find a more comfortable position. He would take the hottest day in the Forge over this miserable mess. No Vulcan ever liked the cold, and it was seeping into his skin, and the wind seemed to find every opening in his clothing and slip its cold fingers in.

This last week had not gone the way he had planned. He was supposed to be on a shuttle far from Earth by now, with Lucy in his bed! Instead, he was stuck out in the wilderness approximately three hundred miles from the Denver area. It would take him another week just to get back to where he started!

_The human authorities were apparently efficient in this universe, showing up barely two minutes after that little rat made the call. He extrapolated that they had the Denver area on stand-by, and that reaching Lucy's house would not be an easy task. The chill here was maddening, and it looked as if he would have to travel at night if he were to make any progress. The flames of fury roiled within him, but he was outnumbered, and he had overheard one of the authorities call the Consulate to send for Vulcan reinforcements. He couldn't fight the humans and his people as well. He decided to flee._

_Just as he reached the shuttle door, he heard a plasma weapon discharge, and an electric sting shot up his leg. He carried on, trying to suppress the pain, but he was momentarily disoriented and pressed the nearest button to get the shuttle airborne._

_When he awoke, he checked the coordinates and let out a few choice swear words. He was three hundred miles from Denver, and his shuttle was about to die. He had no way to refuel without exposing himself, so he would have to find other means of transportation, whether that be stealing another shuttle or simply walking. At the moment, his only option was to backtrack on foot. He could reach Denver in a matter of days if he pressed on, but autumn was fleeting, and the nights were getting colder._

And now he was huddled in the bushes, inundated with the overwhelming urge to wring the necks of the crows in the branches above him. Their incessant caws where making it hard for him to sleep!

He sighed and tried to center himself, and he calmed down with thoughts of Lucy. Another week did not matter in the grand scheme of things, and soon they would be together. Soon.


	12. Rousing

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to dettaarsvenska, Fameanon, dinopoodle, makaem and SavanaSahara for reviewing! You're all wonderful!**_

_**This chapter contains mature themes. Just a fair warning. Don't like, don't read.**_

The wind was a soft whisper in his ear, and the pavement beneath his shoes was slick with the recent downpour. He had taken refuge from the rain in an abandoned barn a few miles outside of town, and after the rain let up and the sun dipped toward the horizon, he headed to the settlement, intent on getting what he needed and then continuing on his way.

The town was quiet, and only a few old-style Earth vehicles were on the wet road. For once, he blessed the damp chill, as it drove everyone inside and minimized the chance that he would be spotted. Night was falling fast, and he beat a hasty path to the town clinic so someone could attend to his leg. It was slowing him down and may have gotten infected, and if he were to make it to Denver within a week, he needed a healthy leg. A shuttle wouldn't hurt matters either. But he doubted anyone in this town would have one.

One of the clinic lights went out as he approached, and he hid himself in some bushes bordering the parking lot and waited, watching the entrance intently. He smiled wickedly to himself as a young woman with long blonde hair came out of the clinic and locked the door behind her, then walked across the dim parking lot to her vehicle at the far end. Now was his chance.

With quick and silent steps, he approached her as she dug through her purse for her keys, and she didn't even turn until he was right behind her. With a tithe of his strength, he pinned her to the vehicle and covered her mouth quickly with one hand. He used his body to hold her in place, and his right fingers dug into her flesh as he found her psi points. She whimpered and struggled, but she was no match for him, and her mental capacity to fight him was incredibly weak. It was easy to force his way into her mind, and he quickly searched her memories for news of him and for information on this clinic.

The meld changed and she relaxed, and he released her and followed her to the clinic doors. She unlocked them and calmly led the way to the nearest examination room, where he took off his pants and allowed her to examine him.

"Your leg is infected," she said blandly. "Here, let me give you something for that."

He followed her to a storage room and watched her as she searched for the right medication with a blank expression on her face. She returned to him and knelt down to administer the medicine, and he smirked at her subservience.

"And when will this be healed, doctor?" he purred as he pulled his pants back on. She smiled vapidly up at him.

"By tomorrow."

"Good," he continued, pulling her to her feet. "Now why don't we have dinner together at your house?"

"That'd be nice," she said. He grinned at her and led her back to her vehicle, rapidly making plans for the evening's entertainment.

…

Strom's meditation was fitful, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not dispel the restless feeling that plagued him. The longer he stayed here, the more he realized what a terrible mistake it was to have agreed to this. He should have made his excuses to Yuris...his brother would have understood...

At the thought of his brother, he made a quick note to contact him as soon as possible so he could be updated on his status. He knew the High Command had immediately dismissed him from the Medical Exchange and the Council of Physicians, but he wanted to make sure Yuris had everything he needed. After all, he was family now, some of the best family Strom could ever ask for...

His heart felt a little lighter at that, and he returned to his meditative state with a little more ease. But still, thoughts of Lucy lingered at the edges of his thoughts, and one particular thing was bothering him. He had been here for a week now in the Hardister household, and already he knew her by scent. Every time he walked outside his room he could smell her scent lingering in the hallway, and when she passed him or sat next to him, her aroma was particularly strong. And it was a wonderful smell, something he hadn't been able to identify, and that made it all the more intriguing...

He concentrated harder on his meditation. Mousse was curled up in his lap, apparently fast asleep (it and the other kitten seemed to sleep a great deal), and Strom concentrated on the creature's breathing as an anchor to guide him back to peace of mind. _Breathe in...breathe out..._

Then he heard her.

Two doors and several inches of wall could not keep his Vulcan ears from hearing her moans, and he leaped to his feet, depositing Mousse onto the soft carpet, and hurried out the door to investigate. He crossed the hall in two steps and listened at her door, not wanting to intrude on her if she was awake.

He heard her moans more clearly now, and he remembered the sound from her stay in the Dekendi hospital. As silently as he could, he opened the door and slipped in to check on her.

…

"How long has it been since you've had a man in your bed, Adeline?" he whispered against her neck. She was standing at the kitchen sink, absentmindedly washing dishes, and he was behind her, holding her to his chest. She sighed and melted into him.

"A long time," she murmured blandly. "Not since college."

"Wouldn't you like to change that?" he purred, slipping her dress straps down her shoulders and kissing her exposed flesh. She moaned.

"I'd like that very much," she whispered, this time with some conviction.

He tore the dress from her body and dragged her to her bedroom, then threw her down onto the bed. He didn't need any more permission than what she had just given him, and he knew from the mind-meld that she was very lonely, nearly desperate. He would help her relieve that tonight, and she would help him send a clear message to his Lucy. His _adun'a _would know the ecstasy that awaited her when he came for her, and if he did this enough, she might be inclined to leave her home and come find him.

"Adeline," he cooed, relieving her of her undergarments. "Thank you for helping me tonight."

She flashed him a smile, the first he had seen since he captured her at the clinic. "My pleasure," she said in reply, settling into a more comfortable position. He prepared himself, lifting her hips and kissing her thin, warm lips. Not like Lucy's, but nice. Adeline would do for what he had in mind.

…

Strom took a tentative step toward the bed, then quickly retreated. Her scent was overwhelming, heated, spicy, _arousing_...The aroma hung in the air like smoke, and every breath he took was saturated with it. _Breathe her in...breathe her out..._Her scent hit his brain like a psychoactive drug, dampening his thought processes and bringing his senses into sharper focus...the heavenly aroma swirled around in his nose, and he took a step forward, breathing her in and breathing her out...

She was writhing uncontrollably on the bed, the covers completely cast off her body, her flesh glimmering with sweat in the pale moonlight that sifted through her window. Her breathing was ragged and her moans were _loud_...he could feel her calls tugging at his essence, urging him forward, sending a tingling sensation racing through his veins...he had not felt like this since...

Almost against his will, his feet moved forward ever so slowly, making no sound as he advanced across the carpet. She had abandoned her sweatpants and was wearing shorts that exposed a large expanse of her luscious thighs, and her camisole was bunched up below her breasts, revealing the silky flesh of her stomach...

She moaned again, and he stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes. If he went further...

_Such a tempting little thing, isn't she? _the beast said with relish. _I bet her flesh tastes exquisite..._

I will not listen, he chanted to himself even as he took another step closer to the bed.

_All that skin...so creamy, so luscious...just waiting to be bitten..._

NO! he chided himself. It is not appropriate for me to have these thoughts about her!

_You say that now, but how long can you resist her? Especially with her scent this strong?_

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, then opened them. He didn't dare touch her lest he lose himself completely, so he took a deep breath and called her name.

"Lucy," he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Lucy."

She arched her back and turned toward him, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Strom..." she purred, her voice no higher than a whisper.

It took everything in his power not to surge forward and feed the ravenous beast inside him, and he clenched his fists until his nails were digging into his palms.

"Strom," she moaned, then let out a delighted gasp as she arched her back again. "Yes,_ Strom_!"

He was drowning in her intoxicating scent, and her ecstatic cries filled his ears, her exposed flesh was the only sight that matter to him...it was a wonder he didn't take her then and there. Somehow, he held on to the last thread of control and barked her name.

"Lucy!"

But it did nothing but make her moan louder. He squeezed his eyes shut in agony, took a deep breath, grabbed her shoulder and shook her vigorously until she opened her eyes.

"Lucy," he whispered, sitting on the bed. His knees felt like they might give out, and he could not take another second standing. That experience, flooded with her scent, weakened by her cries and the sight of her flesh, had left him overwhelmed. Her hazel eyes blinked open as she became more aware of her surroundings, and upon seeing him, she quickly sat up, grabbed a fistful of his shirt and drew him close, pressing her forehead to his and cupping his face with both hands.

His eyes closed of their own accord as he was inundated with overpowering wave of lust from her. Time seemed to freeze as she held him there, their lips inches apart, and their panting breaths mingled in the space between them. He could hardly breathe...the urge to take her was so strong...the pure, unadulterated desire pulsated from her fingertips and coursed through his system, searing his blood like a kiln. More pressing now was the uncomfortable straining at his pants zipper, which had been steadily growing ever since she had moaned his name. If she continued this contact for another minute...

He swallowed thickly and looked into her eyes, and suddenly she seemed to snap out of a daze. She removed her hands from his face and tumbled back away from him, eventually curling up underneath the window, her knees to her chin, her cheeks stained with tears.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed. "Please don't hate me...please don't hate me..."

He slowly stood back up and faced her, though where his strength to do so came from he did not know. He wanted to go to her, comfort her...he wanted to run away from her, away from this house...how could he have given in so easily to the beast? Its words still haunted him, whispering in his ear, but he would not listen. Somehow, he had regained some control. The sight of her tears made him want to curse himself, but it did cool the fires and snap him back to reality.

"Hate you?" he whispered. "I could never hate you. You least of all, as lovely and-"

He stopped himself and practically ran from her room, and his door snapped smartly behind him before he collapsed onto the floor. Mousse ran up to him (it had been lounging on the bed) and licked his cheek, rubbing its little head against him until he raised his head and looked down at it.

"Mousse," he groaned, taking the little kitten into his arms. "What have I done?"

Mousse only mewled in response and pressed eagerly into his hand, and Strom actually chuckled softly to himself, stroking the creature with gentle pressure. Its purrs had a calming effect on his nervous system, and it helped him regain control of his emotions and impulses.

"You are an agreeable little thing," he whispered to Mousse. "But you are not much help in these matters."

Mousse mewled again, stretching its little body and yawning widely, then curled up in his lap and promptly fell asleep. Strom leaned his head against the wall and breathed in air that was not saturated with her scent, and he spent the rest of the night in heavy meditation, Mousse fast asleep in his arms.

…

He rolled off her and smirked at her dazed expression; he had gotten quite violent, and yet she hadn't minded. Perhaps she really was desperate. Adeline's eyelids drooped in exhaustion, and he padded out of the room, pulling on his shirt as he did so.

He found the gas heater in a closet off the kitchen, and looking back into the room, he saw the oven and stovetop. He grinned to himself and turned on the gas, then turned the oven on to full blast and walked back into the bedroom to retrieve his clothes. He went ahead and took one of her winter coats (it wasn't like she would be using it, so why waste a good article of clothing?) and pulled the rest of his clothes back on. She was still in a contented daze, her neck bleeding were he had sunk his teeth into her skin.

"You were lovely, Adeline," he whispered to her, leaning over her so that their lips were inches apart. She moaned. "You truly were a great help. I feel calmer already."

He devoured her lips and drew her last breath into his mouth, then quickly snapped her neck.

He left her naked corpse on the bed and filled a spare pack (he had found it in the closet with the winter coat) with food from her fresher unit and cabinets, then opened the oven door to let the room fill with heat. The door shut snugly behind him, and he set off across the wilderness, even more intent on his goal.

He had only been walking ten minutes when he heard the explosion behind him. He smiled to himself and continued on into the gathering darkness.

…

Strom didn't see Lucy at breakfast the next morning, so he went up to her bedroom and knocked on the door. He had to apologize for his intrusion last night, for making things worse for her. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed he had walked in on something highly private, and though it was...embarrassing to talk about it, he would have to apologize.

He knocked again and received a quiet summons to enter, and he turned the doorhandle and slipped in. He closed the door quietly behind him, then tentatively stepped forward into her room.

She was lounging on the bed, reading a PADD, her expression calm and unconcerned.

"Doctor," she said blandly. "How can I help you this morning?"

He continued his slow walk forward. "May I sit down?"

She nodded. "Sure."

He perched nervously on the bed and stared at her intently, trying to gauge her emotional state. She seemed calm and collected, nearly bored, and it was disturbing after seeing her so exposed and vulnerable last night.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"You know I did," she replied, her tone even as she stared at her PADD. "Is that all?"

He sighed. "Regarding last night...I apologize for intruding on you. I assure you, I was only concerned for your safety, otherwise I would not have dared...forgive me."

She looked up at him, a hint of confusion diffusing over her expression. "Why? What did you do?"

He frowned at her. "I intruded on your privacy. That is seriously offensive on my planet. It is only proper that I apologize."

She stared at him blankly. "Whatever you say, doctor." She obviously wasn't interested in the conversation, but he had offered her his apologies. She didn't seem angry with him, or embarrassed, or guilty, or anything. He knew in his gut that this wasn't right.

"Lucy, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

He could see this turning into a one-ended conversation, and it was illogical to waste one's breath with such things. And besides, he had already accomplished his goal, though he was bemused over her lack of reaction. Something wasn't right here, and he would find out. But not now. He needed to meditate some more.

"If that's all you have to say to me, Ms. Hardister, I will take my leave of you."

"Mm-hm," she murmured, as if talking to herself. He stood, and she glanced at him long enough to give him a curt nod, then went back to her reading.

…

Strom was meditating in his room, trying to drown out the sounds of rain outside his window. Endless streams of water pouring down onto the earth...his shower was one thing, rain was quite another. It was surely cold outside, and damp from the downpour, and he was glad he was inside where it was warm and dry. Well, relatively warm anyway.

Mousse joined him in his lap every day when he meditated, and he found the creature's presence soothing. It helped him concentrate to listen to the little kitten's breathing, and he often used the sound to guide himself to a tranquil state of mind.

He breathed in time with Mousse, but he winced and opened his eyes when he heard a resounding _boom _outside. It sounded like an explosion, but he couldn't feel any aftershocks from it. He stood and went to the door, only to find Lucy with her hand raised to knock.

She grinned when she saw him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Ever seen a thunderstorm, doctor?" she asked, her grin sly and mischievous.

He shook his head, and she descended into a fit of giggles, then grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of his room.

"Come on, I need to show you!"

She dragged him down the stairs, through the kitchen and out onto the back patio, and the sound of the rain increased. Another _boom _made him look up at the dark sky, but she laughed. He frowned in confusion.

"What is that?" he asked quietly, taking a step back toward the house.

"Thunder!" she squealed, running out into the rain. He stepped forward, but she started spinning and twirling around in the pouring rain, her hair becoming laden with water, laughing in glee all the while.

He watched her in fascination as she splashed in the puddles and giggled to herself at the childish activity, and he had the sudden thought that he was looking at the real Lucy Hardister. This was the girl pulsating with vivacity and eagerness that Dr. Zareel said made her so endearing, and he conceded that the sight of her laughing was a pleasing one. But still, being out in the rain could lead to any number of maladies. As her doctor, he could not allow her to get sick.

"Lucy!" he called. "Come out of the rain before you fall ill!"

She laughed at him. "Come and get me, doctor!"

He frowned again, but she flashed him a sly grin before dancing off further from the house. He looked up at the sky, then down at the wet ground, then back at her smiling impishly at him from across the backyard.

He narrowed his eyes and set off into the rain after her, and she ran a little ways toward him before cutting off at an angle, this time heading to his left. The rain was cold and soaked him to his bones, but there was something inexplicably..._invigorating _about this game with her. His objective was simple, yet compelling. _Catch Lucy_.

Easier said than done. Although he possessed twice her agility, he found her a wily adversary. It wasn't until he nearly caught her arm and she slipped from him, skipping away from him and crooking her finger in summons, that he realized just how..._primal _this activity was. He was pursuing her, and he could tell from the look in her eyes that she wanted to be caught. She was teasing him, letting him get close before scurrying off again, and it was maddening, especially with the weather so cold and wet.

Finally, he let lose a quiet growl and pursued her with everything he had, and a flash of fear and surprise crossed her eyes when he grabbed her arm, but was soon replaced by mischief. She grinned at him and laughed as he drew her closer.

"I win," he said simply. He bended and picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and he carried her back to the house while she giggled incessantly into his shirt.

"Oh, I'm sorry, doctor," she whispered gleefully. "Did I make you uncomfortable?"

"Unruly child," he murmured. "I am simply taking you back where you belong." He said it lightly, knowing it wasn't his place to reprimand her. But she giggled even more.

"Ooh, am I being scolded, sir?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Naughty children should be punished."

He looked down at her and watched her eyes widen and darken, then her face broke out into a gleeful smile; she threw her head back and laughed.

"You made a joke! You're teasing me!" she giggled, slapping him playfully on the arm.

"Vulcans do not tease," he insisted, setting her down onto the porch. But one look into her eyes told him she wasn't convinced.

"Whatever you say, my good doctor," she said sweetly, opening the door and ushering him in with a silly grin on her face. She immediately fetched him a towel, and he returned to his room to take a hot shower before dinner.


	13. Flirtatious

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to dettaarsvenska, Fameanon, maba7x and dinopoodle for reviewing! You're all wonderful!**_

_**Warning: Fluff levels are high this chapter. You have been warned.**_

Strom awoke the next morning and rose to make breakfast, and as he sat up, Mousse rolled off his stomach and tumbled into his lap. The kitten mewled in protest, but Strom simply put him on the bed and got dressed quickly. The room was colder than usual, but even as he pulled on a clean shirt, he felt the heater kick back in and flood the room with a little more warmth.

Lucy joined him downstairs after two hours, to his surprise, and she smiled vaguely at him as she started pulling ingredients out of the fresher unit and setting them on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" he asked mildly. She shrugged.

"First day of autumn," Lucy murmured. "Time for pumpkin pie."

He raised an eyebrow, but did not answer, choosing to turn back to the breakfast he was making from the vegetables Mrs. Hardister had provided him with at the beginning of the week.

"You can help if you want," she continued. "It's fun."

He raised both eyebrows at her, and she stared at him with a mild expression. "Vulcans do not have 'fun'."

A high-pitched giggle came out of her mouth. "You just say that because you've never tried it!"

Strom tilted his head and turned back to his work at the stove. Lucy walked out for a moment and returned with a PADD in hand, and he glanced her way when she began talking again.

"Good morning, sunshine!" she said cheerfully to something on the floor. Her voice had changed to a soft, breathy, almost condescending tone, and he realized she was talking to Mousse. "Did you and Strom sleep well last night?"

"I did," the doctor replied lightly to her inquiry. "And what about you, Lucy?"

"I slept ok."

Silence fell between them until Mrs. Hardister came into the room and began making coffee. "Up already, Lucy?" she asked her daughter.

"I woke up at 4 this morning," she responded with a yawn. Strom turned to her and frowned. "Didn't you say Maribel was coming over this afternoon with Fernando's kids?"

Mrs. Hardister mumbled out an affirmative and joined Lucy at the island after she had poured herself a mug of coffee. "So why don't I get the decorations out, and you can work on the pies."

Lucy smiled and started reading off the PADD, but Mrs. Hardister left the room again.

Strom waited a few moments before speaking again. "Late last night...I heard you talking in your sleep, Lucy."

She looked up at him. "Really...what did I say?"

He felt his cheeks and ears grow warm. "Actually...I was hoping you could explain. What were you dreaming about?"

Lucy blushed and looked down at the PADD. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Strom turned back to the stove and stirred the broth boiling away on the front burner. Unbidden, memories of the previous night slipped to the forefront of his mind.

_He could still hear her across the hall, but she wasn't moaning this time. She was talking._

"_Strom," he heard her mumble. "Strom, please don't go..."_

_It wasn't until he was face to face with the door that he realized he had gotten up. He pressed his hand to the painted wood and listened, confused, guilty at intruding on her privacy, yet inexplicably intrigued. This was an uncommon human habit, but not unheard of. And it seemed he was the subject of her dreams that night._

"_Please, Strom, stay with me...don't leave me here alone."_

_He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the doorway, remembering his promise from the night before. He could not invade her privacy any more than he already had, no matter what she was talking about. However, if the remnant memories of her attack surfaced...then he could go to her...then he could help. For the moment, she was caught in emotional turmoil, tearful one minute, happy the next. And he realized he had no idea of how to approach the subject of her attack without her shutting down the lines of communication._

"_Please..." he heard her whisper._

"_I'm right here, Lucy," he mumbled into the door. "I'm not leaving you...not until he's caught."_

The golden liquid gave off hot steam that warmed the kitchen in defiance of the cool wind blowing outside. The breeze had blown all night and wiped away the gray clouds in the sky, seemingly painting the heavens a bright and vibrant blue. It was a nice day outside by human standards, but the weather was too crisp and cold for Strom's tastes. It would be this way until May of the next year, but he hoped to be done with this assignment long before then.

As he watched the pot boil, his thoughts turned to the previous day, and their game of "catch me if you can" out in the rain. He had seen the real Lucy then, and it seemed she was still with him today...perhaps she responded best to engaging and exciting activities. It would be logical to continue the method he had used previously, since it apparently was working. His...flirtatious repartee with her had made her talk more than a week's worth of failed conversations had, and the game had invigorated her...

"Lucy, I would be honored to help you make...what are we making?"

"Pumpkin pie," she said, sounding pleased. He nodded in satisfaction.

"After I have served everyone breakfast, it would be agreeable to help you."

She grinned and turned back to her reading.

…

"Mrs. Hardister, how are children punished on your world when they are unruly?"

Strom was working on the graham cracker crust for the pies, wearing gloves and mixing everything with his protected hands. Lucy looked up at his statement and blushed, and he raised an eyebrow at his young patient.

Mrs. Hardister's eyes twinkled. "Oh, what has Lucy done now?"

Strom shook his head. "I was simply curious. We got on the subject yesterday, but your daughter did not go into detail."

"Well," Mrs. Hardister began, taking a break from blending the pie mixture, "when Lucy didn't do what she was told, I would spank her."

The Vulcan doctor tilted his head. "Spank, Mrs. Hardister? That seems rather violent."

She frowned at him. "And what punishment do unruly children get on your world, doctor?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Often, we are scolded. To disappoint our parents is deterrent enough...and being denied our favorite food was quite effective as well."

Both Mrs. Hardister and Lucy giggled, and the older woman turned to her daughter. "I don't know, Lucy, we might have to cut off your supply of chocolate cake."

"But I haven't done anything wrong!" Lucy protested. "Ask Dr. Strom, he'll vouch for me."

Her mother turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, doctor? Has she been behaving herself?"

"Absolutely not," Strom said with a straight face. "She has been incredibly disobedient. She made me run after her in the rain yesterday."

Lucy's expression contorted into one of shock and betrayal until she realized he was teasing her. Then she grinned at him, and he quickly focused on his work. What was it about that smile that made his abdomen feel light, almost queasy? No, not queasy...just light...

He banished the thought and turned to Mrs. Hardister when she spoke. "I think I'll have to spank you, Lucy, making the doctor run after you." Strom could tell her mother was also teasing, but she looked like she might make good on her promise.

"I do not wish Lucy to be punished. It was nothing, really."

Mrs. Hardister smiled at him. "Spanking doesn't really hurt, doctor. It's more about deterring a child from doing wrong than trying to hurt them. That's child abuse, and we don't hurt our children here."

He frowned at her as she came up to him and swatted him on his arm. He barely felt the sting of her hand making sudden contact with his shirt, and he raised his eyebrows.

"No harder than that," she explained, and he nodded.

"It is more about the act than the violence, then." She murmured in affirmation. "I see," he continued. "Then I see no harm in spanking her, Mrs. Hardister, if that is all the pain she'll have to endure."

Her mother grinned and turned when Dr. Hardister called her from his office down the hall. "Lucy, could you keep working on the pie mix?"

Lucy nodded, and Mrs. Hardister left them alone. They worked in silence for five minutes, and it seemed Lucy's mother would not be returning to the kitchen for a while. She had most likely gone to get some more decorations, or perhaps she and her husband were having a private conversation. Either way, the kitchen was blissfully silent, but he didn't mind when Lucy looked up at him, a sly grin on her face.

He thought she might tease him now that they were alone, but she simply asked him to fetch her something from the cabinets.

"It's called pumpkin pie spice," she said as he rifled through the spice rack. "I think the lid is orange, if that helps."

He quickly found the required ingredient and opened it for her, but he froze for a moment as the aroma hit his nose.

It was Lucy's scent.

Already, they had assembled four pies, and the goods were baking away in the oven, filling the kitchen with their warm, buttery scent, but the scent combined with the prominent smell of the spices almost overwhelmed him. He quickly handed the container to her and turned away as she added the correct amount to the mix, and he continued crumbling the graham cracker crust even though it was the correct consistency.

"Doctor?"

He looked up at her and regarded her curious gaze with a level stare, and she raised her eyebrows in concern.

"You ok?"

He nodded quickly. "I have never cooked this dish before. I find it...unusual."

She stopped what she was doing and slowly walked around the island to him, and he stared at her, his mind begging her to get away lest he drag her to his room and lock the door, but the beast was growling incessantly, rattling the cage it was trapped in, longing to be satiated.

"The smell's not making you nauseous, is it?"

"No," he negated, trying his hardest to shut down the conversation. Her proximity was making the beast claw at his insides, and he could feel his ears and cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His shame was warranted in his opinion, so he made no effort to suppress it. If he was ashamed of his reactions to her, he would be less apt to try anything dishonorable.

But she lightly touched his arm, and the beast rocked the cage. "You're sure? You look a little green."

He took a deep breath and centered himself. "Truly, Ms. Hardister, I am all right. The smell is foreign to me, that is all."

"Ok," she said, her thumb swiping over his shoulder before she withdrew her hand. "If you need to step outside for a bit, I won't judge."

He nodded curtly and said nothing, and she seemed to understand that he didn't want to talk about it. They continued their work in silence until Lucy's parents came into the kitchen. Dr. Hardister kissed his daughter on the cheek, a coat and briefcase in his hand.

"Well, I've got to go plan a lecture, sweetheart," he said gently to Lucy. "I'll see you this evening, ok?'

"Why do you have to plan a lecture?"

"Dr. Hernandez called in sick this morning. Poor man's got a bad case of the flu, and he had to go to the hospital. The doctors say he'll be fine, but he won't be able to go to his class at UD until Wednesday at the earliest, so I need to go plan a few things with him."

"Ok," Lucy said, stirring the pumpkin pie mix with more fervor. "Tell him I said hello, and to get better soon."

"I will, Lucy Lou. But what's this I hear about tormenting the poor doctor?"

Lucy blushed bright pink and mumbled something incomprehensible. Her father grinned.

"So that's how it is. Maybe your mother can take care of that punishment for me. I like Dr. Strom's idea of a spanking."

Lucy only blushed harder until her father laughed raucously. "I'm only kidding, Lucy! You be good for me now."

"Yes, Daddy."

He kissed her cheek again. "That's my girl. Don't burn the house down. I'll see you all later. Doctor," he bowed his head briefly to Strom before ducking out of the kitchen and walking out of the house. Mrs. Hardister shook her head after him and put her hands on her hips.

"I'll go call Maribel and see when she'll be here, and then I think I'll start a load of laundry. Can you two handle this in here?"

Lucy nodded, and Strom murmured an affirmation. Mrs. Hardister left them alone and went into the other room, and silence fell again.

Strom looked up at Lucy to gauge her emotional state only to find her eying the pumpkin pie spice container with a mischievous gaze. He swallowed thickly as her bright hazel eyes found his, and she offered him a wolfish grin.

"You wouldn't spank me, would you doctor?"

He breathed in and steadied himself, and he didn't have time to edit the response the beast forced out of his mouth. "Not unless you're naughty."

Her eyes brightened and her wicked grin widened, and he looked down at his work, chiding himself for even trying that method of communication with her. He was not here to flirt, he was here to take care of her! He knew better than this!

But he felt her fingers streak something along his cheek, and another inhale informed him that it was the pumpkin pie spice. Her eyes were practically glistening with victory.

"Like that, doctor?"

Before he could respond, she set the container down on the countertop and ran out the door, and after a moment of staring after her in confusion, his legs propelled him forward and out the door after her. She twisted around to face him, beckoning him forward with her fingers. In another instant, he had tackled her and was holding her firmly over his knee as she squealed in apparent delight.

"Yes, Lucy, like that," he nearly growled, and before he could stop himself, he gave her backside a good swat with his hand.

She gasped, and his grip on her immediately slackened as he processed what he had done, and he could feel his cheeks and ears getting hot as she twisted around and slowly sat up so she was face to face with him. She was panting from the exertion, and she closed her eyes and opened them slowly. Her pupils had bloomed, consuming most of her irises, and her dark eyes became glassy as she stared at him, as their breath mingled, as their hearts hammered in tandem.

"I...apologize, Ms. Hardister," Strom began, stumbling on the words as she leaned a little closer. "That was inappro-"

He was cut off as she pressed a warm finger to his lips. "It'll be our little secret," she breathed, leaning even closer to him. Her scent was overwhelming him, slowing his reasoning, clogging up his synapses...

"And that's just what you get for calling me naughty," she continued. "And this..."

He gasped and quickly closed his eyes as the tip of her tongue trailed along his cheek where she had smeared the spice. His hands, which had been resting on her waist, involuntarily dug into her flesh, and he could hear a soft whine escape her lips. The beast was clamoring for release, ramming incessantly against its cage, growling in his ear...

_Lucy...yes...let me have you, let me take you, and I will be your slave...let me slake this thirst, satiate this hunger, and you will want for nothing...oh, _Lucy_..._

She trailed her lips lightly back down his cheek and finally pulled away. Her eyes were even darker now, but she simply grinned slyly at him and pressed her finger to her lips in the human signal for silence.

"Our little secret," she whispered, winking and jumping to her feet. He breathed out in relief as Mrs. Hardister called them from the kitchen and Lucy called back, running toward the house, and he was left sitting on the grass, dazed and dizzy.

What had he done?

…

Lucy's cousin, a young girl of four by the name of Ali, snuggled into his shoulder as he carried her downstairs to Arturo's room. Lucy was leading the way, carrying two-year-old Rigo in one arm and holding five-year-old Valerie's hand. It was late afternoon, and the children had not had a nap yet, so Lucy had decided to put them down in Arturo's room until their parents came and picked them up. Mrs. Hardister had departed the house for a meeting after fixing lunch, and Lucy had promised that she and him would clean up the dishes and the kitchen.

Fernando's children were fairly well-behaved and curious, but little Rigo didn't want to stay still. Eventually, Lucy sat him in her lap and crossed her legs over his until he promised to be good, and for the rest of the afternoon, just one look from his cousin was enough to keep the little boy in line. Valerie was a bit bossy when it came to her brother and sister, and Lucy kept the five-year-old's tongue in check along with Rigo's restlessness. Ali was simply happy to be doing something constructive and fun with her cousin, or at least that was the impression Strom got. Valerie and Rigo were afraid of him when they first saw him, but Ali hugged his knees as if she had known him all her life. Rigo and his eldest sister eventually warmed up to him, asking him questions and telling him stories about what they would dress up as for Halloween.

The front porch was now draped in fake cobwebs, the steps lined with autumn mums. Lucy had promised the three that they could go to the pumpkin patch next week, and all of them (Strom included; he was curious about the tradition surrounding this holiday) would carve monstrous faces into the vegetables and put them outside on the porch, traditionally meant to ward off evil spirits that might damage property or livestock on one's land. The children were palpably excited about the 31st of October, when they would dress up in a costume and go door-to-door gathering candy. Lucy had promised him a more thorough explanation at some later date.

Lucy bumped her hip against the door to open it and let Valerie lay down on the bed first. She then settled Rigo in beside her, and Strom laid Ali beside her brother. They were all so small that they fit nicely on the twin bed, and Lucy smiled down at them as they fell asleep almost immediately.

She turned to him and smiled, pressing her finger against her lips again, urging him to be silent. He nodded in affirmation and watched as Lucy retrieved a spare blanket from the closet and laid it carefully over her cousins.

She had handled the children well, engaging them in activities throughout the afternoon, telling them stories, helping them make crafts, asking them questions about their plans for the upcoming holiday. Her cousins adored her, and Strom had watched it all quietly from the sidelines, smiling ever so slightly to himself at Lucy's success with the little children.

The beast was purring contently on the floor of its cage as he watched Lucy tuck the children in, and as Rigo stuck his chubby little thumb into his mouth, Strom felt an ache inside his chest, a hole that he wanted filled. They were sweet children, Valerie and Ali and Rigo, and Strom realized...he wanted children of his own.

How sterile had his existence become? He owned a home on Vulcan, but he rarely slept there. He never wanted to linger in the emptiness, the silence...he hated the loneliness. This afternoon of babysitting with Lucy had opened his eyes to a life that he was missing. He longed for a normal life of working and coming home to a family, to children waiting for him to join them for the evening meal, for a wife, a woman of his own, to hold, to cherish, to love and protect...

He briefly closed his eyes before his thoughts went in an inappropriate direction, especially concerning his young patient, and he smiled slightly at her and nodded as she turned to him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you hungry? You didn't eat lunch."

It came to his attention that his stomach was growling, and Lucy grinned and led him back out of the room, back up to the kitchen. She got ingredients out and put water on to boil, then chopped up vegetables and put them into a saute pan. She added tomato sauce, and once the water was boiling, she put pasta in to cook.

He watched her work as he leaned against the island, but she instructed him to sit and wait. He obeyed and watched her from the table, and in less than half an hour, she had prepared a meal for the two of them. While that was cooking, she brewed hot tea, and the aroma of the food and drink was actually making his mouth water. She dished him up a plate of pasta with her tomato-vegetable sauce and set it and the tea in front of him, practically glowing with pride at her accomplishment. He waited until she joined him at the table before he took his first bite, and he suppressed a groan. The food was flavorful, exotic, delicious; he stared at her in amazement.

"How old are you, Ms. Hardister?"

"Nearly eighteen. If you're wondering how I know how to make that pasta dish...let's just say I've had a lot of nights where I'm making dinner by myself. Mom and Dad are busy...but I've got a lot of practice under my belt. Do you like it?"

"It is very good, Lucy...what else can you cook?"

She grinned and took a bite before responding. "Thinking of taking me home with you, doctor?"

_Thinking of making you my wife, and the mother of my children, _the beast purred, and Strom shoved the thought down before it could go any further.

He swallowed. "Simply curious," he mumbled. She took a bite of her pasta.

"I can cook a lot of things...Mom taught me everything I know how to do."

The rest of the meal passed in silence, and it continued as they washed dishes. He was too deep in thought to strike up a conversation, and she seemed to be falling back to her quiet self. It was getting late, but Mrs. Hardister walked in the door and informed them that she had eaten at her meeting, but thanked Lucy for fixing dinner. Lucy's uncle, Fernando, came not ten minutes later and collected his children, and finally Dr. Hardister returned from his hospital visit and ate the remaining pasta.

He followed Lucy up the stairs to their rooms, and she turned to him in front of her door.

"Goodnight, doctor," she said softly. A grin graced her pink lips. "Our little secret."

He flushed slightly just thinking of her tongue tracing his cheek. She stood on her tip-toes and lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, then gave him one last smile before retreating to her room.

His meditation that night was fitful, and even Mousse seemed affected by his unrest. The kitten rolled over and over in his lap before finally jumping up and settling on the bed. Strom sighed and focused his mind again, but all he could think about what Lucy, about what it was like to touch her, to smell her, to feel her lips against his skin.

It was nearly midnight before he dared go to sleep.

_**A/N: I know what some of you are thinking. "Sensara, she's fine! You're telling me this chica is traumatized? I'm calling BS!"**_

_**But hold your horses, dear reader. You really think she's ok? Just wait till the next chapter. You'll see.**_


	14. Quiet

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thanks so much to Fameanon, maba7x, dettaarsvenska, dinopoodle, T'Sara and 09sasha for reviewing! You guys are awesome!**_

Strom sighed and stroked Mousse's fur, scratching the kitten behind his ears. It purred in appreciation and pressed its miniature head harder into his hand, encouraging him to give it more affection.

He had thought he was making good progress with Lucy, but over the last week, she had fallen into a quieter state, much like the one he saw at the hospital on Dekendi. She ate less than usual, and it was only when he confronted her and demanded that she eat more that she obeyed. She did not listen to her father or her mother, but when he had asked her, ordered her as a doctor to take in more nutrition...she had done it without question. She was still responding to him, but she wasn't meeting him halfway. She did what he told her to do, but over the last week, she seemed withdrawn, depressed perhaps. In sharp contrast to her flirtatious and lively banter with him when they were making pumpkin pies together, this week she rarely initiated activities with him, and she never initiated conversation. What little conversation she offered died quickly, despite his best efforts.

"_You can't expect her to rebound so quickly, Strom,_" Yuris had said during their last communique. "_She's traumatized and hurting, more so than you know. Give her time, and keep supporting her, and I think she will eventually recover. But we have to be patient with her._"

Strom knew Yuris was right; it was unrealistic to think she would rebound within two weeks of the attack. The trauma of that experience would most likely haunt her for months, perhaps even years. It was logical to give her time and support, to encourage her and keep on trying, no matter how...frustrating her lack of response might be. It pained him, seeing her so closed off...

"Stop it!"

Strom's thoughts were immediately interrupted by a desperate moan from Lucy, audible even through the doors and walls. He leaped to his feet and rushed into her room, only to find her writhing and rolling around on the bed, her face turned away from him. Strom rushed to her side, shielding himself from her emotions and turning her face toward him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and her expression was pained; her arm flailed in front of her, as if trying to fend off an attacker. Her other hand was digging into the mattress, and her grip tightened with every convulsion that racked her body.

"Stop!" she hissed, flinching. "Please!"

Strom caught her hand and laid it down firmly at her side, then let her go. "Lucy!" he called, shaking her shoulder. She didn't wake up, but rather convulsed harder.

With gentle ease, he worked his arms under her and lifted her, cradling her close to his body, and he lightly shoved her door open with his foot, then did the same for his room. He laid her on his bed just as she murmured "no" and whimpered, and rifling quickly through his med kid, he found what he was looking for and injected her neck.

Her body relaxed, but her expression did not fade into something more sedate for several minutes. He sighed and sat down by her side, then pushed her hair back from her face. Her lip was bleeding where she had bitten it, and he gently gripped her chin and lowered her jaw, swabbing the wound with antiseptic. She gasped as the cleansing agent hit her exposed skin, but he swabbed another substance over the bite to soothe it and ease the pain. She finally relaxed, a few more tears running down her cheeks, and he wiped them away even though his hands were shaking.

She had most likely had a nightmare reliving the assault, and the thought made Strom angry and queasy. The dirty bastard who did this to her, a poor, innocent girl...that bastard would pay dearly for his crime. Strom fetched a washcloth from his bathroom, wet it with warm water and dabbed away the sweat on her forehead as she fell into an uneasy sleep.

Yes, he resolved, the bastard would pay dearly. He would see to it.

…

Fury coursed through his veins as he marched away from the burning house behind him. Who was this male that had captured Lucy's attention? And who dared interrupt him when he was giving her a clear message to not think of that male again? He could give her ecstasy beyond imagining, but she would have to be his and only his! And he would have no other!

He had been in the middle of his message when he felt her REM cycle stop abruptly, but he could still feel her unconscious mind working in the back of his, like a ghost-like caress. The logical conclusion was that someone had injected her with something that blocked dreams, interrupting his message.

Whoever it was, he would find them and kill them. No one got between him and his Lucy!

…

The rest of the night passed slowly for Strom as Lucy dozed fitfully on his bed. He set up a scanning device to monitor her brain activity, just to be safe, and the information being fed to his PADD was eerily familiar. Her brain activity looked a lot like the scans Phlox had run on _Enterprise_, and how the residue of a mind-meld could last this long in her brain was beyond him. He sent the information to Yuris to get a second opinion, then sat in the chair furthest away from the bed.

The beast was feasting its eyes on the sight of her in his sleeping space, whispering in his ear, incessantly encouraging him to throw propriety to the winds and curl up beside her, remove her clothes, explore her skin with his fingertips, explore her mouth with his tongue-

He cut the thought off and focused on a mantra, falling into a semi-deep meditative state to distract himself from her presence so close at hand, and so vulnerable, in more ways than one.

When 0400 came, he left her in his room and went downstairs to make breakfast. Mousse was curled up next to its mistress, purring softly in the crook behind her knee.

Lucy slept until 1000 hours, and didn't say a word the rest of the day. When asked about the nightmare, she shrugged and continued to pet Mousse and Truffle, seemingly the only beings in the household she was willing to interact with. Strom went upstairs at noon to talk to Yuris over subspace, because he needed a new plan of action.

…

Soval paced back and forth in his office, shaking his head in mounting frustration. The same Vulcan DNA as was found on the maintenance worker was also found in three homes that had caught on fire (by arson, authorities had discovered), and a dead woman was found in all three. Both Earth and Vulcan authorities had no leads on who was responsible, but the disturbing thing was that the deaths, put in a line by location, drew a path from Lucy's assailant's extrapolated position (east near the west region of Kansas) to Denver. He had the distinct feeling that whoever had attacked Lucy was coming back for her, and he didn't care who got in his way.

Soval walked over to the comm panel. "Put me through to Dr. Strom at the Hardister household, please."

…

"Lucy."

Strom watched as she turned her head and stared at him, then turned back to Mousse and dangled a toy in front of the kitten. Mousse was rearing up on his hind legs, batting his paws at the toy, and he could detect the tiniest twinkle of satisfaction in her eyes as she watched her pet. He walked further into her room and sat down at her side.

"Lucy, please talk to me," he whispered, taking the toy from her and tossing it across the room. Mousse ran after it.

"What do you want me to say?" she whispered, staring at the floor.

"Tell me what you remember about that nightmare you had last night...or anything you remember from the attack."

She was silent for several minutes, but then shook her head. "Nothing," she breathed. "I can't remember."

"You remembered a corridor, correct?"

She nodded.

"Was there anyone in the corridor? There was an exit down that hallway...did anyone come in that way? Did you meet anyone down there?"

She stared straight ahead, her expression blank. "Are you all right?"

He frowned. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

She shook her head. "Are you all right?"

His frown deepened, and he tilted his head. "Did you ask someone that question?"

Tears sprung up in her eyes. "Why can't I remember?"

He debated with himself for a minute before reaching out and wiping away her tears with a gentle brush of his hand. She closed her eyes and kept them closed even as he pulled his hand away, and she looked like she was thinking or concentrating. He didn't want to disturb her.

But after a few minutes, he heard her stomach growl.

"Are you hungry?" he inquired gently. She opened her eyes and shook her head.

"You haven't eaten anything today," he continued. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

She turned away. "I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are," he insisted. "Ms. Hardister," he said firmly, catching her attention. She turned toward him. "I demand that you eat. As your doctor, I am ordering you to maintain a healthy caloric intake. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered. "I'll eat...for you."

He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. "Lucy, you should eat for yourself, not for anyone else."

She shook her head. "No...for you."

He stared at her dejectedly for a few more moments before sighing. "If that's what it takes to get you to eat...get some food and eat it for me, Lucy."

She nodded. "Ok."

He got up and made to lead her out of the room, but she turned to him in earnest, resting on her knees. He knelt back down.

"Lucy?"

The shadow of a smile graced her lips, and her eyes were filled with awe and wonder. "Blue eyes..." she whispered, reaching out a hand and touching his cheek, staring deeply into his eyes. He swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry," she breathed, retracting her hand.

"For what are you apologizing?"

"I hit you," she said simply. "I'm sorry."

It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about. "You remember me...from your stay on _Enterprise_."

Her eyes sparkled. "You didn't run away. You made me speak...you made me remember..."

"Remember what?"

It took her a moment to answer. "That I love Vulcans...that I should like you...that I _do _like you..."

Her expression, which had been childlike and content, suddenly fell, and she looked afraid. She bowed her head and fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

Strom breathed in and carefully lifted her chin. "I am...very pleased that you enjoy my company, Lucy," he said softly. He could tell that that was a very weighty admission she had made, and it truly did please him that she "liked" him. Gaining her trust was the first step towards delving more into her trauma and helping her heal. This was a good first step, and he offered her a tiny smile.

"Now...why don't you and I eat the evening meal together?"

Her expression bloomed into joy at that, and he helped her to her feet, knowing that although the progress he had made today might disappear tomorrow, for the moment, she looked happy and content...like she should be. He followed her down the stairs and dished her up a bowl of the vegetarian stew Mrs. Hardister had made, and they ate together in soft silence.

_**A/N: Well, poor little Lucy isn't making much progress, now is she? Unfortunately, I'm cruel to my characters, and I doubt she'll catch a break any time soon.**_


	15. Tempted

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to dettaarsvenska, Fameanon, 09sasha, dinopoodle and maba7x for reviewing! You guys are all awesome!**_

_**A/N: Happy Halloween, everybody!**_

"Dr. Hardister."

Hardister looked up from his work and bowed his head curtly to Dr. Strom. "What can I do for you, doctor?"

"May I speak to you for a moment?"

He nodded and put down the PADD he had been reading, then folded his hands neatly on the desk. "How's Lucy?" he asked quietly.

Strom folded his hands in front of him. "She is quite reluctant to communicate verbally, as I'm sure you've noticed.

Hardister nodded and sighed, picking at a worn spot on his mahogany desk.

"_Lucy, aren't you going to eat?"_

_She stared at him blankly and shook her head._

"_Why not?" He was trying his best to be patient, but psychology was never his strong suit, and Lucy had never been this difficult in the past. But he wasn't about to let Strom know this, that he was inundated with frustration over Lucy's condition, that he felt rather helpless and guilty that he wasn't doing more, that diving into his work was a reasonable excuse to escape his mounting frustration and guilt over this, but also that escaping only compounded the guilt and frustration._

_Lucy shrugged and turned away, petting Truffle with a gentle hand._

"_Lucy," Strom said firmly. She looked up at him expectantly; she was listening for whatever the Vulcan had to say._

"_I'm disappointed that you won't talk to your father. Tell him what he wants to know."_

_She turned to him and shrugged. "I'm not hungry, daddy."_

"She responds to you."

Strom quirked an eyebrow. "I am at just as much a loss as to why she responds to me and not you who are her father. Nevertheless, she is making small breakthroughs. Yesterday she told me she remembers me from her stay on _Enterprise_."

Hardister smiled. "Every little is a gain."

Strom nodded, then sighed almost imperceptibly. "I was reluctant to bring this to your attention, but as you are her parent...Ambassador Soval contacted me yesterday morning. He informed me that there have been a line of murders starting in west Kansas moving west, toward Denver. Three women have been killed, their homes burned to the ground...authorities found Vulcan DNA in all three homes."

Hardister frowned. "You're saying there's a Vulcan out there killing women?"

Strom nodded. "He is not sane."

"And he's headed...here? You mean...he's coming for Lucy?"

"That is highly likely."

"But," Hardister protested, shaking his head, "how can you be sure?"

Strom sighed. "We have our reasons, doctor. In light of these events, I'm sure you'll agree that the best thing for Lucy is that she stay inside at all times. Excursions would be unwise."

Hardister narrowed his eyes. "Ok, so you think there's this...Vulcan madman after my daughter, so you want to lock her inside this house?"

"I would keep her entertained and educated. There are a plethora of things she could learn from me."

Hardister shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm not saying there's nothing she can learn from you, I'm saying that locking her in this house is probably not a good idea. Humans don't like confinement. We're not as...introspective as you. She'd go stir-crazy within a week, I'd bet."

Strom's eyes hardened. "Better 'stir-crazy' than kidnapped or killed, doctor," he said coldly.

But Hardister wasn't about to budge on this. His little girl needed fresh air and things to do, not confinement with a stuffy Vulcan. "I'm not saying that the danger isn't real, doctor...but I seriously do not think confinement is the right course of action. I'll enroll her in a self-defense class at the community college...are you willing to watch over her if she goes out?"

"Of course. That is my purpose here, after all."

"Well then, let's try that first. If you receive news that this...madman is truly in the Denver area, we'll take more extreme measures then."

Strom looked like he might protest, but then he bowed his head and left Hardister's office.

…

It was a cool, cloudless day, and Lucy was contentedly scraping out the insides of the pumpkin he handed her. In the end, Mrs. Hardister took Lucy's young cousins to the pumpkin patch, telling them that Lucy was sick, but would probably be 'better' by the time Halloween night came. But her mother had also brought home six pumpkins for Lucy to carve as she pleased, and the gourds would adorn their front porch for the holiday.

Strom decided to help her, as to foster more trust in her and to get her talking, even if she only told him about traditions and such. She needed to talk, and eventually he hoped she trusted him enough to delve further into the attack and make the mystery clearer for the authorities.

"Tell me, Lucy...why do your people carve pumpkins and put them on your front porches?"

She smiled slightly, plopping down another spoonful of pumpkin seeds and innards onto the butcher paper beside her.

"Celtic tradition," she said softly, scraping carefully at the pumpkin's inside walls. "Turnips were used first...pumpkins are from this continent...the scary faces frighten off demons that come out."

"What demons?" He frowned, but he was intrigued by human mythology.

She shrugged. "Demons. Halloween is the turning point between the light and dark halves of the year. The line between this world and their world is thin...Celts called Halloween night Samhain."

He nodded to himself. "And why do you wear costumes?"

"To scare off the demons."

He frowned. "Are princesses and fairies and chefs supposed to be frightening?"

A hint of a smile lit her eyes. "Commercialization, doctor. The original costumes were frightening...to humans, anyway..."

He offered her a soft smile in appreciation of her humor, and they continued to work on the pumpkins. After two hours (and some instruction from Lucy; mostly observation, as she still wasn't talking much), they had all the pumpkins carved. Four were done traditionally: one was carved with an angry expression, another had a wicked smile, one was ecstatic and one was sad. But one had an IDIC carved into it, the fruit of Lucy's hard work. The shading was off, but the shape was amazingly accurate. It was...pleasing to see it there, a familiar symbol of his people amidst the unusual traditions of hers.

The last pumpkin she had left to him to carve, and he carved the three symbols _rata_, _tafar_, and _tapan_, the three symbols on his tunics. He carved the three side by side, and Lucy watched with fascination.

As he carved the symbols into the pumpkin flesh, he had a sudden burst of inspiration, and he looked up at Lucy with a slight smile.

"Do you make art often, Lucy?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you think perhaps...you could draw the face of your attacker?"

She looked up at him, and she looked saddened by his request. "I'm not an artist...and I don't remember...I'm sorry, doctor."

He shrugged. "But if you saw his face in a database, could you pick him out?"

She looked pensive as she put lights inside each pumpkin. "Maybe...I think I might..."

He offered her the tiniest smile, his expression glowing with warmth. "Good, then I'll get on that immediately...as we've discussed, it is customary for your people to dress in a costume on this night. And I will be helping you supervise your cousins. So tell me...what would be an appropriate costume for me to wear?"

A broad grin slowly crept across her face, and her eyes flashed with amusement as they roamed over him, lingering on his hair and ears, and on his chest.

"I'll think of something," she murmured, and he saw a glimpse of flirtatious Lucy beneath the thin veneer of apathy she put on around her parents. That veneer was even thinner around him, and he could sense that with every passing day, he rose higher in her good graces. The only downside to that was the beast was also immensely pleased that she was the most flirtatious (most like herself) around him, and that every day she seemed to draw closer and closer to him...he needed only to reach out, and she would fall willingly into his arms, into his possession...

He shook his head of the notion and nodded in satisfaction. "I trust you'll find something suitable."

…

He buried his nose in her short, tousled blonde locks and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her womanhood, her femininity. It had been two days since he had sent Lucy his message, and he would send her a kinder one tonight. After all, tonight was apparently a holiday for the humans, a night of mischief and amusement, which unfortunately the woman in his arms would have to miss.

He had met Fae McManon this morning on her way back from the market, and an aching pang stung him as he looked into her hazel eyes; he was reminded of his Lucy. Surely by now, she had gotten the message to stay away from that other male...perhaps it was time for another exploratory session, something to whet her appetite for him...

He chuckled at the thought and stroked a hand down Fae's stomach. Although she would have to miss tonight's festivities, there would be plenty of entertainment for her tonight. He just had to wait until Lucy was sleeping before going in for the kill. And he didn't look on this as adultery; after all, there were Vulcans in his universe who kept several concubines, human and Vulcan alike. Administrator Kuvak came to mind...the man sickened him, just a puppet of the Terrans, though his penchant for cruelty was inspiring, and his almost insatiable appetite for women...unlike Minister V'Las, the supplicating, simpering coward who dreamt incessantly of a better future where Terrans and Vulcans worked and lived together, as equals. He was certainly not about to call Terrans his equals if Vulcans ever did manage to rise above their slave status. If he were Administrator of Vulcan, he would order an invasion on Terra Prime, to wipe out their oppressors in a single, heavy blow...

He shook his head and continued his loving caress of his prize. With a little luck, in a few weeks, Lucy would be the one in his arms, not this starving artist. His little Lucy would his, far from this dripping, miserable wasteland called Earth.

…

Strom frowned as he smoothed out the front of the crisp, white dress shirt Lucy had made him try on, but the tie that went with the shirt was still lying on the bed. He had no idea how to get it around his neck and shaped like it should be shaped, but he was sure Lucy could help him. The pinstriped suit pants fit a lot like his uniform, but it was strange seeing himself in this alien attire. He looked more human and yet more Vulcan than ever, though he had to admit that the shirt and pants fit him well. The aesthetic of his costume, however, he could not account for. He would need a second opinion to determine that.

There was a knock at his door, and he answered it, and his eyes widened at what awaited him on the other side. Lucy was dressed in a long skirt with a ragged hem and a slit up one side all the way to the middle of her thighs, and for a top, she had donned a tight corset-like thing, to which were attached some thin sleeves and a high collar. She looked paler, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had on dark lipstick that accentuated the shape of her lips, and it looked like there were two small puncture wounds at her neck, as if she had been bitten by a _sehlat_. Her eyes were lined with dark black makeup, and her hair was flowing over her shoulder, wavy and curly and tousled and thick...

_She looks ravishing_, the beast purred, but Strom pushed the thought away and turned toward the tie and jacket lying on his bed.

"Lucy, could you help me with this?" he said, hastily buttoning the rest of his shirt. He turned around when he was decent and handed her the tie. She took it and offered him a tiny smile, popped his collar, and placed the tie around his neck so that the two ends hung evenly down his chest.

"Your costume is supposed to represent...?" he began, trying to break the silence as she began tying his tie.

"A vampire."

He frowned. "What is a vampire?"

She pushed the tied neckpiece up a little, completing the look, but then she jerked it to one side to loosen it. "They are creatures who come out at night...they need blood to survive...the blood of the living..."

Lucy put his collar back down and handed him the pinstriped jacket; he shrugged it on and swallowed thickly. The beast was perversely fascinated with her explanation, but he told himself he was simply studying their culture and mythology.

"How do they obtain it?" he asked quietly as she smoothed his jacket out and fastened two of the buttons. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and he couldn't help but notice that her pupils had grown darker...

She leaned in so that her lips were at his neck, and he shivered slightly at the erotic sensation of her warm breath on his skin...

"They bite," she whispered, her lips brushing his flesh, and he closed his eyes against the rush of burning desire that filled him. "And then they suck their victim's blood..."

_She finds the thought of that erotic_, the beast extrapolated for him. _You can hear it in her voice...she _wants_ you to bite her...she _wants_ you to take her...she desires to be yours and yours alone...bite her, suck her blood...indulge her in creating a dark fantasy, indulge yourself...it's what she wants...what she has wanted for a long time..._

"Lucy," he protested weakly, but already she had pulled away and was digging through his closet. She straightened a few minutes later, holding a hat in her hands (he had to turn away when she was searching, as her backside created a...tempting view; the beast purred as it contemplated its perfect shape). She brushed it off and put it on his head, then stood back to observe the effect.

She put her fingers up her mouth and sighed. "Just not fair..." she murmured with a moan. He frowned and made to take off the hat (since it obviously displeased her), but her hand wrapped around his wrist, and she leaned forward, well into his personal space.

"Leave it," she growled, their lips inches apart. "It's not fair...no one should look like you do in a suit...how do you expect me to behave myself when you're dressed like..."

She released his wrist, and he tried his hardest to ignore the beast as she began circling him, prowling around him...examining him like a _sehlat _examines its prey.

"So what you're saying..." He paused and swallowed thickly. _Yes, Lucy, hunt me down...stalk me, bite me, pierce my flesh...and I will be yours, your faithful hunter...let me have a taste of your blood..._

He continued after taking a deep breath. "You think I look..."

She pressed her chest to his back and traced a finger up his arm. "I'm saying, doctor," she whispered in his ear, "that you look very..._tempting_...in that suit."

He could feel her inhale his scent right beneath his ear, and he closed his eyes and dug his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from moving or acting on the irresistible urges that were plaguing him...

"Something wrong?"

His eyes were still closed, but he could tell she was standing in front of him now. "You don't understand," he ground out between gritted teeth, "what you are toying with."

He heard her snort, and his eyes snapped open. She was still standing much too close, and that mischievous gleam was still sparkling in her eyes.

"What, are you afraid you'll bite me?"

She didn't know...she couldn't know how truthful her assumption was. "Lucy," he growled as she stepped closer.

"It's you who should be afraid," she murmured, her eyes fixed on his lips. "I'll bite you first."

He snapped his eyes shut again and muttered a Vulcan mantra under his breath, and when he opened them five minutes later, she was gone.

…

Strom watched as Lucy glared at the ground, methodically putting one foot in front of the other. The majority of the night had gone well: her cousins had enjoyed themselves, and Lucy had been more like herself than she had been lately as she talked to the children, told them frightening stories (_not too frightening_, as she had put it) about monsters and goblins. The children had squealed in equal parts excitement and fear, and he thought he understood the appeal of the holiday, to some degree at least. Humans, apparently, liked a little fear and paranoia every once and a while.

The majority of the night had gone well. Lucy's cousin Victor came over to help chaperone their younger relatives on their trek across the adjacent neighborhoods gathering candy. Victor was seventeen, about five months younger than Lucy, and he and his cousin got along well. Though Lucy seemed a little reluctant to talk to him, she did laugh a great deal at Victor's supposedly humorous jokes (Strom couldn't find any humor in them, but then, he didn't really understand humor).

However, after they had dropped off Fernando's children with their father (Lucy's uncle had met them in an aircar in an adjacent neighborhood), Victor decided to be kind and walk Lucy and Strom home, as he was going to a friend's party afterward on the other side of their neighborhood, and Lucy's house was on his way.

And halfway to Lucy's house from the other neighborhood, Victor spotted some friends of his from school, and the three young men were headed to the same party as him. Logically, it only seemed fair that they walk with Lucy and Strom and Victor, but after what had occurred, Strom wished they had never come near Lucy.

The beast locked away in his cage was roiling in anger at their words, whispered to each other in hushed yet hungry tones...they didn't realize he could hear them.

"_Vic never said he had a smoking hot cousin! If that Vulcan weren't here, I'd be _all _over that ass!"_

_The other two boys snickered. "You and me both, Andre. And she's just _asking _for it in that costume...corset and all, man...did you see those girls on her?"_

Strom didn't need a colloquial dictionary to understand their conversation, and he had found himself slowing his pace to fall in step with the three young men. Lucy and Victor had been praising some creative decorations on a house they were passing, and weren't paying attention to the crude comments coming from Victor's friends.

_The boys went silent as he fell in step beside him, though one was snickering behind his hand, not realizing he had heard every word they had said._

"_Do you think it is in any way appropriate to talk about your friend's kin like that, young man?" he inquired of the one named Andre. The boy frowned._

"_Did you hear that? I didn't know Vulcans spoke street lingo."_

"_I did not need to understand the exact meaning of your colloquialisms to understand the nature of your discussion. It is inappropriate to discuss a woman as if she is an object for you to...conquer. I demand you desist immediately."_

_The boys laughed, not taking him seriously. "Old man, it's none of your business what I say," Andre retorted, stopping and coming face to face with the Vulcan. The human boy was about Strom's height, a __tiny bit shorter, but this boy did not realize the depths into which he was plunging._

"_It _is_ my business, if I perceive you to be a threat to her safety. It is my responsibility to neutralize that threat. I will not hesitate to kill you."_

_He did not intend to say the last sentence, but the beast forced it out of his mouth. The boy's expression changed rapidly to one of worry and fear, and he put up his hands in non-resistance and backed away._

"_It won't happen again," Andre said quietly, and turning to the other two boys, he said, "Let's go."_

_They walked away, and Strom watched them go before turning to Lucy and Victor. The young man looked contrite and quickly apologized for his friends' behavior, and Strom nodded politely to him for his maturity. Lucy's affectionate yet fearful stare, however, was doing strange things to his stomach, and he followed them on to the Hardister household._

Victor had left them a few minutes ago, taking a side street to his friend's house, and Lucy and Strom were left to walk one more block to her house.

"Thank you for standing up for me," Lucy said quietly. "Victor said he was really impressed that you put Andre and his crew in their place...thanks."

"It is of no consequence, Lucy. They did not respect you, and that is intolerable. I did what any man should have done, if they heard such...disgusting talk as that."

She smiled shyly up at him. "You're so sweet..." she murmured, then looked back at the ground, blushing furiously. He raised his eyebrows.

"I am not made of sucrose."

She turned to him with a mischievous gleam in her eye, and he tilted his head, eager to hear her response.

"Has anyone tested that assertion?"

It took him a minute to catch her meaning, and the sly grin that slipped over her face made the beast roar in triumph.

_By the looks of it, she may test that assertion herself one day_, the beast purred, but Strom shut the thought down before it could go further as he followed her up the steps of the Hardister home.

_**A/N: Again, Happy Halloween to all you kids at heart out there! Hope your night is safe and fun!**_


	16. Wavering

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thanks so much to Fameanon, 09sasha, maba7x, dinopoodle, T'Sara, and BelladonnasMom for reviewing! You guys are all amazing!**_

Koss held his head high as he was marched through the corridors of the High Command. Two hours ago, authorities had apprehended him in the city of Gol, where he had been re-designing a family home, adding an additional wing for the wife's parents, who were growing old and needed constant care. He had been walking back to his hotel when shuttles bearing the insignia of the Security Directorate swooped down and blocked his path, and several security officers surrounded him. He knew better than to put up a fight, so he went without protest, sure that whatever was going on was simply a misunderstanding.

He was taken to a dimly lit room, and he automatically straightened his back and swallowed thickly at the sight of not one, but three important men waiting for him. The guards shoved him down (not very gently) into the only available chair, and he finally dared to raise his eyes and look at the three men who all had their gazes fixed on him.

Ambassador Soval was seated to Koss' left, a grim, accusatory expression on his face. A PADD was lying on the table in front of him, and the ambassador picked it up and stared soberly at its contents.

"Did you attend the Inter-species Medical Conference on Dekendi III, Koss?" Soval asked, his voice a low growl. Koss frowned.

"I am not involved in medicine in any way, I'm an architect."

"Where have you been for the last two months?"

Koss swallowed. "I was here in Shi'Kahr last month on commission to design a new extension of the gardens at the Earth embassy, but this month I was in Gol, re-designing a family home."

He watched in growing discomfort as the man to his right, Minister Kuvak, nodded behind him, and Koss realized that two guards were in the corners behind him, _lirpas_ in hand. One departed, presumably to order a search of travel records.

"Tell me, Koss," Soval asked quietly. "What do you think of humans? What is your opinion of them?"

"They are our allies," he replied simply, not sure what to say. "My _telsu _works closely with them." He wanted to offer more, but there wasn't much else he could say. Humans were strange and fascinating, but he rarely saw them in the streets of Shi'Kahr, and had seen the most contact with them in his life working at the embassy.

"Have you ever been to Earth?" Kuvak asked gently, and Koss didn't miss the ire in Soval's eyes as the ambassador glanced over at the minister.

"No, never," the young man replied. Soval stared at him a moment, as if trying to scan his soul, and Koss swallowed again, his mouth going very dry.

Soval slid the PADD across the table, and Koss looked down at it. On the screen was a picture of a young woman with dark brown curly hair and hazel eyes.

"Do you know this woman?" Soval continued. Koss shook his head.

"No, I've never seen her."

Soval took back the PADD and pressed a few buttons, then slid it back to him. A different woman was on the screen, and when asked if he knew this woman, he again denied it.

Four other women were brought up on the screen, but he had never seen any of them in his life. With each denial, the ambassador seemed to get more irritable, until finally, his mouth was turned down into a scowl, and he leaned forward over the table with a menacing expression.

"I find your denial illogical, considering your DNA was found all over their bodies. Adeline Seeley...Sunni Hudon...Charlotte Kraemer, Abigail Hembrow, Fae McManon...do any of these names sound familiar to you?"

Koss shook his head, and to his surprise, Administrator V'Las (who had been pacing behind Soval and Kuvak) stepped forward into the light and frowned at Soval.

"The evidence you found could well be circumstantial. Let the guards confirm or deny his alibi, and then we will pass judgment. It's quite unlike you to make an outburst like that, Soval. Perhaps your fondness for the humans is clouding your logic."

Soval's nostrils flared in ire. "DNA is _not _circumstantial evidence, administrator, unless you are insinuating there is a clone of Koss loose on Earth or something of that nature...and my logic is not sullied by the humans."

V'Las smirked. "Considering the scientific progress of our species, I believe the concept of a clone of this young man is perfectly plausible. And I by no means insinuated that DNA evidence was not circumstantial. But do you feel guilt from this young man? He very well could have been framed for these crimes."

The guard came back at that moment and confirmed his alibi, and Koss let out a silent sigh of relief. He knew he was innocent, but one did not simply defy the High Command, and if the High Command was convinced of his guilt, there was little he could do about it.

V'Las' smirk widened. "As I thought, ambassador. This young man is innocent and I don't believe we need to waste any more of his time. You're dismissed."

The guards showed Koss out, and he breathed in and out to calm himself. This had been an odd occurrence, and he thought that it would probably be best not to write to T'Pol about it, no matter how much he wanted to. He did not want his _telsu _to think him a murderer. But the more frightening matter was that there might be a clone of him running around on Earth, murdering innocent women. Or else someone was framing him. That seemed the more logical answer. Even he knew that it would be logical for the Security Directorate to keep tabs on him, just to make sure there was no mistaking his innocence, and Koss resolved to not leave Vulcan until this murderer was caught.

…

Strom sighed. "Soval said the young man was proven innocent by travel records. V'Las was not convinced of his guilt. According to the High Command, either Koss is being framed or, even more ludicrous, there is a clone of Koss on Earth who is guilty of these crimes. In any case...the architect is not the murderer."

Yuris nodded and leaned closer to the screen. "_Have you shown Lucy his picture?_"

"I will, when she gets home with her mother. They went to get Lucy's ID card updated. She turned eighteen today."

"_Ah_," his brother said softly, nodding to himself. "_How is she faring?_"

Strom stared down at his lap. "It is hard to say at this point. There are some moments where she seems like the flirtatious girl that her parents know, and other times, she is...eerily quiet. She's started having nightmares...about the attack...but she won't tell me about them."

"_You just have to keep trying. Do you think she trusts you?_"

"Apparently, she trusts me more than her own father. I find that thought..."

"_Frightening?_"

Strom nodded. "And yet..." He could not finish. There were some thoughts he did not want to share, not even with Yuris.

"_There is a certain gratification to knowing someone trusts you. Do you find it gratifying, Strom?_"

"Yes, I suppose I do."

Yuris smiled ever so slightly. "_Keep on talking to her, and keep me informed. Live long and prosper, brother_."

"And you, Yuris." He raised the _ta'al_, and the screen went black.

…

The breeze ruffled Strom's hair as he walked side by side with Lucy down the leaf-covered path. The air was cool and crisp, but Mrs. Hardister had pressed a coat on him before he and Lucy went out. Her daughter had grown restless ever since her birthday two days ago, which had been a quiet affair. Lucy was now eighteen, an adult by the standards of her people.

"_What do you want for your birthday, Lucy?" Strom asked her, because her father had still been unable to wrangle much out of her. The Vulcan realized that because of this, her father was spending increasing amounts of time alone in his office, buried in his work, trying to escape what he perceived to be a hopeless situation. Strom, however, kept pressing on, and Lucy responded to him._

"_I have what I could have never asked for," she whispered. "A Vulcan living with me in my home...even if only for a little while."_

_He pondered her statement, quashing the beast and its victorious growls, but he looked up again when she continued._

"_When's your birthday?"_

_Strom raised an eyebrow. "It is difficult to convert a Vulcan year to an Earth year. However, if I were to try and convert the time...my birth date would fall in the middle of your month of August*."_

_She grinned at him. "What day exactly?"_

"_I believe the 15th. There are thirty-one days in August, correct?"_

_Lucy nodded, and her grin widened. "Then I'll have to get you something when that day rolls around again."_

Ever since Halloween and her explanation of vampires, Strom had decided to ask Lucy about more of Earth lore, particularly mythical creatures. Today, on the walk through the woods, she was telling him about incubi. Male demons who came to women at night to lay with them, impregnate them...Lucy had further explained that most people used that excuse to validate unwanted pregnancies out of wedlock, rape or incest, and the beast, who at first was quite fascinated at the thought of the male demon, was now growling in ire at the thought of _any _man touching Lucy in such a callous manner. But Strom knew full well that _he _may end up touching Lucy in such a way, that _he _may end up being the male demon, the incubus.

They were alone, deep in the woods now, surrounded on all sides by golden leaves and slender branches. He fell back to admire a patch of sky between the arching eaves of the trees (and to calm himself; his contemplation of incubi was making the beast growl in irritation), and he listened to the mournful cawing of the crows and the whisper of the wind in the branches. Lucy's footsteps were marked by the shuffling of her boots in the leaves, but they stopped, and he turned abruptly.

He saw her sink to her knees and lean her head back, her expression transformed into confusion, fear, and (to his surprise) arousal, and he quickly ran to her side and knelt down into the wet leaves.

"Lucy?"

Her eyes were closed and her breathing was ragged, and he could hear her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She slowly unzipped her jacket and ran her hands down her body, over her breasts to her abdomen. The tiniest smile graced her lips as her hands trailed down further, slipping just beneath the hem of her pants.

The beast was roaring, and he could hear his blood pounding in his ears as he watched the...arousing display. Her breasts heaved with every breath she took, and her eyelids fluttered open, revealing dilated pupils.

He shook himself from his reverie, and he remembered that this was not supposed to happen, that something was wrong with her, that he needed to take her back to the house and run some scans on her. But those thoughts were forgotten when she set her wicked gaze on him and shoved him down into the leaves. She straddled him before he could react, and he stared up at her, his heart pounding in his chest. The beast was rocking the cage, banging against the bars, making a racket that could no longer be ignored. When he tried to push her off, she captured her hands in his and pinned them above his head. His eyes widened, and she leaned down and licked the tip of his ear.

He closed his eyes, his control hanging by a single thread, and anything more from her...he was likely going to lose control of himself and his impulses.

"Are you my incubus, Strom?" she purred into his ear, tracing its outline with her tongue. He bucked into her and moaned, and the thread became thinner. "Are you the one taking me in my dreams at night?"

It took him several seconds to realize what she was talking about, but the analysis of her words went straight out of his head as she took the tip of his ear into her mouth and sucked hard. His lips parted in shock, and a moan was forced from them. He was trembling, his hands automatically straining against hers, and his control was momentarily lost as he easily broke free of her grip and flipped her onto her back.

"It is not wise to tempt a Vulcan male with those words, Lucy," he breathed, leaning down and inhaling her arousing scent. "It is never wise to play with fire."

With that, he sealed his lips over hers, and his world descended briefly into pleasure and fire and unfulfilled desires, all whirling around him, in his mind, in his boiling blood. She moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer, holding him to her with a hand on the back of his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her hips to meet his, urging him to give in to everything he was suppressing. Her tongue lightly brushed his lips, and his tongue replied by forcing her lips open and exploring her mouth, sliding along her teeth, tickling her soft palette, caressing her lips, and every time moving deeper, as if he could find her most intimate parts through her mouth. He pressed down with his hips, bringing her gyrations to a halt, and he held her still with ease, moaning in sheer pleasure as she responded eagerly to his kiss, nipping playfully at his lips, making his primal urges race to the front of his brain.

"Lucy," he growled, abandoning her lips in favor of her neck, where he ripped away her scarf and scraped his teeth over her creamy flesh, eliciting a dark giggle from her. That only provoked him into working harder at her skin, and her fingernails were digging into his back. His teeth sunk ever so slightly into her neck, relishing the sensation of her soft and supple flesh yielding to the force of his jaw, and he buried his nose in her dark, curly locks, breathing in and out, as if inhaling a drug.

He pulled away briefly, the beast feasting its eyes on the red marks that pricked her downy hair-covered neck, the monster admiring the aesthetically pleasing contrast between her hair and the yellow leaves strewn over the forest floor. Colors became ultra-vivid to his eyes, her scent swirling in and out of his nose, and he dove back down, once more violently claiming her lips. He had been suppressed for too long, known solitude too well, and her eager response to his rough handling of her was driving him insane. Her tongue was locked in a battle with his, her hand clenching and releasing a fistful of his hair, and although he still had her pinned, he could feel her hips squirming pleasantly beneath him, as if trying to re-initiate their tantalizing gyrations.

The fever was not fully upon him, but he could feel the telltale flush on his cheeks and underneath his clothes, and he gasped into her mouth when her fingers deftly unbuttoned his coat and unlatched his tunic, baring his chest to the cold and to her titillating fingertips, and he moaned his pleasure into her mouth, only for her to respond with a moan of her own. Her other hand abandoned his hair and cupped his face, her thumb stroking the tip of his ear over and over again. Her dark red coat was open in another instant, and he took a fistful of her button-down dress in his hand, ready to rip it off her top half.

The communicator at his waist started beeping, breaking the chilly silence with its electronic shrill. Strom immediately clamored to his feet and re-latched his shirt, then walked a short distance away to answer the call.

"Yes?" he spoke into the device, suddenly aware that his voice was trembling.

"_Doctor?_" It was Lucy's mother. "_There's an urgent communique here for you at the house. Are you and Lucy coming back?_"

"We are in route back to the house now, Mrs. Hardister. Thank you for informing me." _And for saving your daughter from my weakness._

The communicator beeped as the transmission ended, and, summoning all his strength, he looked back at Lucy. She had made no attempt to make herself decent again, and hadn't even brushed away the yellow leaves stuck in her hair. It would have been easier for him if she had looked horrified, but she looked mildly intrigued, if anything, as if a Vulcan nearly taking her in the backwoods was the most natural thing in the world. He dared not let his glance stray down too far, as his rough grip on her dress had made two of the buttons come undone, revealing more of her cleavage than was modest.

"Lucy," he croaked, forcing himself to step forward. "Please fasten your dress and jacket, and put your scarf back on. Please."

She stared at him a moment longer, then obeyed his request. She passed him, walking back down the path the way they came, and he followed, eventually catching up to her. He did not walk as closely beside her as he had coming into the woods, but that did not deter her from smiling conspiratorially up at him. Poor, innocent, little Lucy! Didn't she see the monster hiding in the darkness, hiding in his stare? Didn't she know that he would probably destroy her with his strength, that he would sully her with his horrible intentions, his dreadful need? And didn't she understand that with every smile and every touch and every eager response to his passions, she was driving herself further toward death? He could not accept it if he hurt her...he could not live with himself if he was the cause of her demise.

He glanced sidelong at her, her wicked smirk making his cheeks flush slightly, and he could not stop himself from reaching out and brushing the leaves out of her hair. She glanced up at him, her expression completely content, and she returned the favor, picking the decaying plant matter out of his precise bob.

She made no indication that she wanted to continue down the path, and he breathed in a calming breath.

"Lucy...I must beg your forgiveness. I should have never...taken advantage of you...inflicted myself upon you...can you please forgive me? And please...do not speak of this."

She frowned. "I started it."

"And I took advantage of that. I am the one to blame."

Her frown deepened. "I'm a woman...I was..." She trailed off and looked away. "I'm sorry..."

He stepped even closer to her, desperate to make her see. "I am the one to blame," he repeated. "What happened to you, Lucy? When you fell?"

She shook her head and sighed, walking down the path away from him. He followed and put a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around.

"Ms. Hardister, what happened? I demand that you answer me!"

Lucy narrowed her eyes and stepped dangerously close, and he was taken aback at the fire glowing in her hazel eyes. "Him," she said simply. "But I don't want him...I'd rather have you."

Strom swallowed thickly. "Lucy...you do not know what you are saying...and if I were..._inclined _to see you as...a potential partner...I'd still want you to be healthy first. You're not..."

"In my right mind?" she hissed, taking a fistful of his tunic and tugging him closer. "Not good enough, Strom."

He gasped as she tore his tunic down, once more baring his chest, and he cried out as she sunk her teeth into the middle of his chest, leaving a ring of teeth marks on his flesh.

"Mine," she growled, her lips brushing the mark on his body. He stared down at her in shock, and he could not deny the arousal flowing through his veins. The beast was roaring like a madman who has just slain his opponent and is celebrating his victory, but the rational side of him was teetering, acknowledging that her desire for him made it much more acceptable in his eyes to take her, but also reminding him (he could hardly hear over the beast's clamor) that Lucy truly was not well, that she was not in a healthy state of being.

She pulled back, and her lips were stained with his green blood. Unable to take the battle inside him, his knees gave out, and he sunk to the forest floor, looking up at her, his resolve wavering.

She knelt by him and kissed his lips, gently this time, and he could taste his coppery blood on her mouth. Finally, Lucy stood and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then walked away, swaying her hips as in invitation, glancing back at him once she was a good ways away.

He hung his head and stumbled to his feet, then followed, unable to run, unable to do anything but follow. She had captured him, and he hoped this news would bring him the release he needed, if she was to live to see the next year.

_*A/N: Bob Morrisey's birthday is on August 15. I thought it would be fitting to give Strom this birthday as well._


	17. Furious

_**Disclaimer: Thank you so much to Fameanon (and Strom's beast, V'Las and Yuris), SavanaSahara, 09sasha, maba7x and the anon reviewer for reviewing. You are all awesome!**_

Strom scrubbed his body vigorously, his movements erratic, panicked, as if he could wash away the fever and emerge from the water clean and whole, not a man descending into madness. Lucy's bite mark stung each time he rubbed the soap over it, but he ignored the pain and exfoliated his skin as if his life depended on it. The beast was fully awake, flexing its long, ugly claws, slowly nosing its way into every nook and cranny of his mind, removing impulse controls and making cracks in his carefully constructed veneer of logic. The beast did not care for logic. It only sought to consume, to conquer, to devour, to take. And Strom was determined to win, to lock the beast back in its cage and survive the fever without a woman's aid...without Lucy's aid...

He quickly banished the thought of Lucy helping him through _pon farr _out of his head, but the thought came right back as his eyes fell on her mark, on the bruises forming around it. He could see the imprint of her teeth in the greenish-yellow bruise, and he swallowed thickly, leaning his head back into the steady stream of hot water, trying his hardest not to think on it too much. If he did, he would storm Lucy's room, throw her on the bed and mark her a hundred times, claim her as his own, and he would subsequently destroy her in the fever. The temptation was too great, he had to rid himself of this desire, or she would die. She would die at his hands...he would drive her so hard she would bleed to death, or snap her little neck, or some slow, cruel infection would set in and destroy her from the inside, because the beast did not care about sanitation or hygiene. It wanted, and its sole goal was to obtain what it wanted.

He wouldn't have it! He wouldn't see the beast destroy his little Lucy when she had so much before her!

Strom quickly backtracked, relinquishing his claim on his young patient. She was not his Lucy. She could not be his Lucy, at least not now. She was too young, filled with too much promise, and in any case, she was not mentally healthy at the moment. She was traumatized, plagued by nightmares and...inexplicable bouts of strange lust...some strange residue from the mind meld? He was still bemused as to how the telepathic connection could have lasted for so long.

He turned his thoughts to the urgent communique from Ambassador Soval he had received earlier that day. Another murder had occurred 25 miles outside Denver, bringing Lucy's assailant closer than ever. Strom was to take Lucy to a prepared hiding place, a small, secluded house in the Sierra Nevada, and wait for the authorities to capture the murderer. Vulcan security would surround the house, and Earth authorities would take up the watch here at the Hardister household. He and Lucy were to leave first thing in the morning.

He sighed, rinsing his hair, not letting his gaze drift downward to Lucy's mark of possession. This move would only put them in closer contact, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back the beast, how long he could contain his desires. He resolved then and there to spend most of his time in the new house engaged in meditation, for his sake...but mostly for Lucy Hardister. He was determined to save her, from this murdering bastard, and from the poor doctor who had been foolish enough to fall for her.

…

_The room was dark, lit only by soft shafts of silver moonlight, and he could see her standing there by the window, her usual place until he threw her on the bed. She heard his approach and let the silk nightgown slip off her shoulders and down off her body, and he watched in satisfaction as it crumpled into a heap on the ground with a slight rustle. Her beautiful, slender body was exposed to his vision now, and he walked up to her and slid his hands over her creamy shoulders, kissing her neck gently, sweetly, but soon he would be sinking his teeth into her...he would be gentle at first, but then he would show her passion like she had never seen before..._

"_Strom," she whispered softly, leaning into his kiss. "Yes, Strom, please..."_

_He froze, anger roiling in his blood, and his touch (which had been gentle and soft a moment ago) became rough as he shoved her into the wall by the window. She gasped, and he could feel the thrill of fear run down her spine. She should be afraid...he didn't know who this male was, but he would find him, and kill him...no rival would stand between him and his Lucy!_

"_Who is he, Lucy?" he growled in her ear, his fingernails drawing blood as they dug into her supple flesh. "Who is this man who is taking you from me?"_

_She would not respond, but whimpered in pain, and he shoved her harder into the wall. "Who is he?! Tell me, Lucy, or I will find him and destroy him before your eyes! If you tell me now, I will spare you that...you will not have to watch him die, but I will kill him either way. It's your choice, _a'duna_, so choose wisely."_

_She cried out, writhing beneath him, trying to break free of his grip. But there was nowhere for her to run. She had not the bodily strength to fight him off nor the mental prowess to hide her erstwhile lover from him. This other male, this Strom, would be brought to his knees! He would see to it!_

_He pressed harder, shuffling through her memories, looking for his face. And he found it...blue eyes, dark hair, strong square jaw...old, weak, pompous, arrogant...he laughed. This doctor was no match for him, and would be easily defeated. Then Lucy would see that he was the better male for her!_

_He turned Lucy around and grinned down at her, his smile wolfish, his eyes gleaming in a frightening combination of hatred, jealousy and lust. Shackles were summoned out of the bedroom wall with a single thought, and he bound Lucy to them._

"_Once I have destroyed his mind, you may watch a few hungry _sehlats_ destroy the empty shell of his body. And then I will punish you for making me do this...but don't fret, _ashaya_, you'll like the punishment I have in mind. You will not disobey me again," he growled._

_He walked away from her and summoned her lover with a thought, and there was the scrawny physician, his blue eyes flashing in fear. Strom raised his hands to fight, but Koss grabbed his wrist, pressing down on a pressure point in the joint, and Strom relaxed, now subject to his will. He had him kneel in submission, facing Lucy so she could see his expression as he tore through his mind...and then he placed his hand on Strom's face, his fingers snaking toward the psi points, and he whispered the words..._

_He could see Lucy wince, and tears began streaming down her pale face, but he continued. She would have to learn that there was no disobeying him without consequences. It was the only way..._

_Strom grunted in discomfort, then gasped as Koss broke through the hastily constructed mental barriers the doctor put in place, and he tore through Strom's mind, burning memories and ravishing synapses as he went. Strom began to scream in agony, a sweet symphony to Koss' ears, but Lucy screamed in tandem with her lover, begging him to stop it, to spare the physician._

_But there was no going back now. The doctor gave one last cry before he crumpled at his feet, and he stepped over his trembling body and walked back up to Lucy._

_She spat in his face the moment he was close enough, and he closed his eyes briefly, suppressing the desire to ravage her then and there. She had to watch first..._

"_You bastard!" she screamed at him, her shrill voice stinging his ears. "You dirty bastard! I'll kill you for what you've done!" She struggled against the shackles, rattling the chains, but she could not escape. "You'll die! I'll kill you, Koss, I'll kill you!"_

_He was about to retort when he felt the dream slipping away from him, felt her conscious mind drift toward waking, and he cursed, trying to hold on to the dream, but it was futile. His message disappeared like sand slipping through his fingers, and everything faded to black..._

He gasped as he came out of it, and he growled as he looked down at his latest victim, a young girl of only twenty, who had come back to Denver to visit her parents. Victoria screamed in torment, but he kept up his torture, driving her harder, taking out his relentless fury on her. She begged him to stop, pleaded for mercy, but once he was done, he snapped her neck, perversely relieved to have put an end to her screams.

A little rigging, a stolen loaf of bread, and a flicked match, and he was on his way again. Her parent's flitter was in the garage, and he found the keys and stole it. There was no time to waste. His control over Lucy was slipping, and he needed to find her, to kill the doctor and reassert himself over her. She would know pain first, and then he would satisfy the fever with her.

And anyone who got in the way of this plan was as good as dead.

…

Strom breathed in slowly as he felt the wetness of her tears slowly soak through his lightweight shirt and touch his skin. Lucy was sobbing in his arms, having run in here five minutes ago, shaking like a leaf. Her hand was reflexively knotting and releasing his shirt, and he shhed her, stroking her long, dark curly hair. She hadn't told him why she was crying, but he assumed (considering the hour) that she had had another terrible nightmare, and was in need of his comfort.

He tasted salt on his lips, and he realized belatedly that he was feathering kisses along her hairline; her sobbing eased and her posture relaxed slightly, and he instinctively laid his cheek to the top of her head.

"Are you ready to talk to me now, Lucy?" he murmured, entwining his fingers into her unbound hair. He couldn't seem to stop himself...

Her tears still stained his shirt, but she breathed in a deep breath. "That bastard," she whispered into his chest. "That dirty bastard..."

He closed his eyes in silent agreement, and his hand dropped down to stroke her back. The beast purred in contentment, and Strom's eyes snapped open. He hadn't been alone in this house twelve hours, and already he was taking more liberties with her! But she sobbed harder, and he squeezed her tighter to his chest, her body aligned wonderfully with his. He shouldn't be taking pleasure in this, he reminded himself. She's traumatized, hurting and in need of comfort...and not that kind of comfort!

_But she's been so tense lately, _the beast purred. _So quiet...perhaps some _comfort _will loosen her tongue..._

No! he berated himself, digging his nails slightly into her back as he lightly touched his lips to her forehead. I mustn't think like that!

"That bastard will pay for what he did to you," she whispered, and he frowned into her hair.

"Me?" he murmured, lifting her chin so she could look up at him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and several unshed tears were glistening in her hazel eyes. He kept his gaze on her eyes, though he was tempted to let it trail down to her lips...he was tempted to kiss them...this was the closest they had been since their walk in the woods...since they had...

He cut off his thoughts as she nodded. "He'll pay," she whimpered, laying her head down on his chest. "I'll kill him."

He felt like he couldn't breathe for several seconds, and he could hear the beast ramming against the bars of its cage...those bars were getting beaten far too much, and were liable to break soon...

His eyes drooped and he kissed the top of her head. "You'd kill for me?" the beast forced out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Yes," she whispered sleepily, and he thought she might drift off to sleep, but she raised her tear-stained face and sealed her gentle, trembling lips over his.

He could not bring himself to pull away, and his eyes automatically slid shut. The beast was growling in approval, and Strom thanked whatever higher powers might be out there that Lucy pulled away a few seconds later and laid her head back down on his chest. Had she continued...he was alone in this house with her...he could easily overpower her...the security forces patrolling the area were a good ways away from the house...no one would hear her screams of ecstasy as he took her...

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and hastily said a few mantras in his head, and once he regained a little more control over himself, his thoughts turned to the previous day, to his conversation with Lucy's father...

"_She needs freedom, doctor, not further confinement! She'll be fine here! Or are Vulcan security forces really that incompetent?"_

_Strom narrowed his eyes and stepped up to Lucy's father, propriety regarding personal space forgotten. He could take the jab at his people, but this idiotic fool did not understand the gravity of the situation._

"_Dr. Hardister," Strom growled, and the human man took a step back, fear growing in his eyes, "Lucy's assailant is twenty-five miles outside of Denver...probably closer now...he will find your daughter, and he will demand that she go with him, and just for good measure, he will kill you and any man who tries to stop him. He may even rape your wife. He will take your daughter, and he will most certainly rape her. He will invade her mind, change her memory so that she never knew you, so that she thinks it normal to be his wife...and I use that term loosely, as slavery hardly counts as a marriage. When you look into his eyes as he chokes you to death...then will you understand?"_

_Hardister was finally silent, and he collapsed back into his office chair. "You said Vulcan security would surround the place?" he said after several minutes of silence._

"_Yes, and Earth authorities will take up watch here, to protect you and your wife."_

_The human man buried his head in his hands. "Take her," he muttered finally. "Take care of my baby girl...since I apparently can't."_

_Strom decided not to respond to his last statement. "I assure you, doctor, I will lay down my life for Lucy if it comes to that. I will do everything I can to protect her."_

_Hardister looked up at him, a strange, knowing frown on his face. Their gazes were locked for about two minutes before he spoke again._

"_You're attracted to her," he whispered, and Strom frowned._

"_I assure you, sir, my relationship with your daughter is purely professional."_

"_But you want more," Hardister pressed, a triumphant grin replacing his frown. "You're in love with my little Lucy!"_

_Strom glared at him. "As I have stated, my-"_

"_The day she made you chase her in the rain...she was flirting, and you fell for her! How did I not see this coming...I guess I always knew she'd marry a xeno..."_

_Hardister reached for a tumbler and a bottle of dark amber liquid on his desk, and he silently poured a glass. "The thing I've noticed about Vulcans...they're very...persistent. Somehow I don't think she can escape you...she wouldn't want to, anyway...I can see it now...she loves you back."_

_The human sighed and raised the tumbler to his lips. "If you ever hurt her in _any _way...you'll find yourself six feet under sooner than you can blink."_

"_Even if I did feel that way about your daughter, I would kill you before you took her from me."_

_Hardister wasn't buying it, in fact, he seemed even more convinced of his analysis. "Yeah, you're definitely in love with her." He raised the glass as if toasting him, a weary, defeated look in his eyes._

"_Cheers, son," the human murmured, then drained the rest of the glass. "Keep her safe."_

_He didn't seem to have anything more to say, and Strom bowed his head. "I intend to do just that."_

_He left the human man to brood._

Lucy burrowed herself against him, as if she could crawl inside him and sleep there. "Don't leave me, Strom," she whispered as her body finally relaxed. "Please don't let me go..."

He closed his eyes and pulled her up a little to make her more comfortable. "As you wish," he murmured into her hair. "_My dearest little Lucy_."

…

Sorak tilted his head in fascination at the twinkling lights of the darkened reception room, where about one hundred guests were milling about, eating hors d'oeuvres and holding drinks in their hands. The ceremony had just ended, and the guests were waiting for the new bride and groom to enter the reception hall and kick off the rest of the celebration.

"Not a very private affair, is it?" his companion, Dr. Tumek, muttered under his breath in Vulcan. The doctor was not extremely fluent in English and had asked Sorak to accompany him to this wedding to act as a translator. The doctor didn't want to be lost during the ceremony or afterward, should any humans approach him for anything.

"There is no shame in having a different culture, doctor," Sorak chided softly. "I have been Soval's aid for nearly twenty years now, and I have observed that humans like to gather in large groups for their special occasions."

His companion fell silent while Sorak watched the proceedings, but his attention went back to the doctor when he spoke again.

"That human in the corner...I believe he is intoxicated."

Sorak turned and looked in the direction that Tumek pointed, and after observing the blonde human for a minute, he decided to approach him. He looked vaguely familiar, and Sorak had the distinct impression this man had had an appointment or an encounter with Osu Soval at some point.

"Sir?"

The human looked up at him, and Dr. Tumek frowned at him. "You are in the Inter-species Medical Exchange, are you not?"

"Yeah," the man drawled. "What...who's askin?"

There was alcohol on the man's breath, and it looked like Tumek's presumption was correct. Sorak wasn't sure why, but he sat down at the man's table and took away the half-empty beer bottle in his hands.

"I believe you have had enough. Is something wrong?"

"Sorak, he's intoxicated."

The aide turned and looked at the physician. "He does not look like he has become intoxicated from overindulgence in the celebrations. He is obviously depressed. Can you not feel it?"

Tumek flared his nostrils in irritation. "I try to keep my mental barriers up when around humans, Sorak."

He sighed. "There are days when I seriously wonder why you are in the Exchange. Sir, what is wrong? Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

The man laughed, but a few tears streamed down his cheeks. "Oh, you're just all angels, aren't you?" he slurred, reaching for the beer bottle. Sorak tugged it away. "First, that...S-Strom fellow steals my daughter's heart...and now a Vulcan is cutting me off!" He laughed mirthlessly and reached again for the bottle, but Sorak handed it to Tumek, who placed it on a nearby table with a look of disgust.

"I've met Strom," the physician offered. "He was sent here by Oratt after the conference, but I do not know the reasons."

"To look after my Lucy, not take her away!" the man said, his voice rising in volume. "Damn Vulcan...madman...why did that bastard do it? Why attack my Lucy? Look at me, calling her mine...never been there for her...no wonder she...maybe she...damn Vulcans..."

Tumek flared his nostrils again, but Sorak frowned and leaned forward. "Vulcan madman?" That sounded far too much like a secret that the humans should not be privy too.

"Yeah...attacked her...at the conference..." Tumek straightened and gave Sorak a meaningful look.

"There was an attack on a human girl at the conference. I do not know the details, since I was not assigned to help her, but I believe Strom was on her case."

"And what does she see in him anyway?" the man continued. "All my fault..." He laid his head down on the table and began to cry silently. "I'm a damn failure," he mumbled, and Sorak stood, resting his hand briefly on the man's shoulder, trying to convey peace of mind to him, as it was obvious that the man was in emotional turmoil. Sorak wasn't sure what to do, and he figured that was the best thing he could do for the man at the moment. He would alert the people running the reception that the man needed to be looked after, perhaps taken home.

The night passed swiftly, and Sorak did not see the man for the remainder of the night. The guests lined up on either side of the door to see the happy couple off to their honeymoon, something Sorak guessed was the equivalent of the one-year cohabitation period most Vulcan couples took after being bonded. Perhaps humans needed a lot less time to develop a deep connection.

He did know, however, that the rice they were throwing was a simple of fertility and good luck, and he explained this to his companion, who was very confused as to why they were wasting food.

Sorak was near the back of the crowd, and over their cheers and well-wishes, he heard a gasp and some shuffling behind him. He turned and peered into the darkness, and he thought he saw a Vulcan run off into the night from some bushes on the side of the building.

Sorak went after the man, thinking it was another guest at the reception who had gotten lost, but when he came to the bushes, he called for Tumek and cast off his robes. The drunk man from before was lying in the dirt, red blood staining his dress shirt and a thick line of blood blooming at his throat. The man had been stabbed and had his throat slit, and Sorak firmly pressed his robes to the bleeding area, hoping the slit at his throat wasn't deep enough to cause death.

The man gripped the Vulcan's arm with all his might, and Sorak knew the man could very well be dead in the next few minutes.

"Tell my wife..." he began, then turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of red saliva. "Tell her...I love her..."

"What is your name?" Sorak asked calmly, applying more pressure to his wound.

"Gabriel," the man whispered. "Doctor Gabriel Theodore Hardister...tell my wife..."

"Your wife's name?" His voice was soft, because this man was on his death bed, or as good as. Tumek arrived and called out for more help, but Sorak knew from the look in his companion's eyes that Dr. Hardister would not make it.

"Gabriel, your wife's name?"

"Mina," he croaked, a few tears leaking out of his gray eyes. "Tell her...I love her so much...and I'm sorry...for everything..."

"I'll tell her," he promised gently. Hardister reached for his hand, and Sorak gave it, lowering his barriers just enough to give the man peace as he passed. He was dying, and it was the, to coin a phrase, humane thing to do.

"And my son," the human continued, more tears streaming down his cheeks. The emotions in his voice made it stick in his throat, but he forged ahead, his voice slowing and slurring and developing a gravely undertone. "Tell him...not to run...tell him to be there...for Lily and Gabby...tell Arturo to be a man...to not be like me..."

"I'll tell him," Sorak whispered, squeezing his hand. More tears welled in the doctor's gray eyes.

"And Lucy." A choked sob escaped his throat. "It's ok if she marries him...he's a good man...Mina said...Strom cares for her...tell Strom to look...after my daughter...and to find the bastard...tell them, please...tell them I love them...that I'm proud of them..._I'm so_..._sorry_..."

A rattling breath escaped his mouth, and Gabriel Hardister relaxed into the dirt even as a medical team set down their emergency flitter and rushed to the scene. But Sorak knew there was nothing to be done. All that he could do know was obey his last orders and pass along the messages.

Sorak passed a hand over the doctor's wide gray eyes, closing them, letting him be at peace.

_**(A/N: You may recognize the name Sorak if you're following Fameanon's story "Admiral's Daughter, Ambassador's Temptation". Go check that story out, it's awesome! Thank you, Fame, for letting me borrow your character!)**_


	18. Murderous

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and Koss, Gabriel H, and Strom's beast), dettaarsvenska, the real Koss (why do I get the feeling you're from Germany?), 09sasha, Bina W and the anon reviewer for your wonderful reviews. You're all spectacular!**_

Strom sighed as he took the plomeek broth off the heat and dished up a bowl for Lucy. She was sitting at the table, her head down on it as if she were trying to go back to sleep. He did not want his thoughts to stray towards her; the fever was almost upon him, and her presence was making things extremely difficult. He couldn't be in the room with her more than five minutes before he felt a tingling in his fingertips, the urgings to mate in his lower abdomen, the growl of the beast in his ears.

He set the bowl before Lucy with a tiny smile, then quickly made to leave. But he froze in the doorway when he heard her call his name. He turned and faced her, chanting a mantra in his head, gathering all his strength.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked innocently, eyeing the small but half-full pot of plomeek broth sitting on the stovetop.

"No," he said curtly, and she frowned and stood. He was frozen in place as she approached him.

"Are you ok?"

He could not find an answer for her. When he didn't offer her a response, she lifted her hand and pressed the back of it to his forehead, frowning in concern.

"You're hotter than usual," she murmured, taking his wrist and leading him back to the chair she had been sitting in. "Sit," she commanded curtly, picking up the bowl of plomeek broth.

The beast flexed its claws and obeyed immediately, taking hold of his frame. She held a spoonful of plomeek up to his lips, and he automatically opened his mouth, his eyes fixed on hers. She smiled ruefully as he swallowed it down, but when he refused a second bite, she frowned again.

"Doctor...you have to eat. Please...eat for me...how can you take care of me...when you can't take care of yourself?"

He closed his eyes briefly, but he reminded himself that his duty was to take care of her, and if he was to do that, then he would have to take care of himself as well. Though Vulcans could go several days without food, it wouldn't help matters to not eat, to not keep up his strength.

He took the bowl from her and, under her watchful and concerned gaze, ate all of it, then dished up some more to give to her. She accepted it with a soft smile and made to sit down, and he watched her movements, the beast now digging its claws deep into him.

She sat in her chair and ate, thankfully not looking at him, but at her broth, and against his will, his eyes trailed down to her stomach, her abdomen...he imagined it swollen with child...his child...

_She fears for your life, Strom, _the beast purred, and Strom closed his eyes. _Wouldn't she make a wonderful mate? A wonderful mother?_

Strom breathed in deeply and fled the room before he took her then and there, and he bounded up the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible, up to his room, then locked the door behind him. He collapsed onto the bed, whispering mantra after mantra to calm himself, but he could not deny that his heart was pounding in his chest, racing from that suggestion. She _would _make a wonderful wife, and mother...but she wasn't in her right mind, he told himself firmly.

He paced back and forth, muttering mantras under his breath, wearing a hole in the rug with his frenzied steps. He wouldn't do it, he resolved. He wouldn't inflict himself on Lucy, not when she didn't know what she was doing.

He plopped down in the middle of the rug and breathed in deeply, trying his hardest to submerge himself in meditation.

…

_Blood fever._

He could hear it in his ears, the growling of the beast. The cage was ripped apart, lying in pieces, and the beast flexed its claws in preparation, in anticipation. _I want_, it growled, _I want Lucy_...

_Plak-tow._

It was upon him, drenching him in sweat, boiling the blood in his veins, taking over his synapses with lustful fever. He was hot...so hot...

_Get Lucy._

Strom groaned and wiped away the sweat dripping on his brow, his brain dimly processing that it was a futile battle. More sweat would be poured out of him soon.

_Get Lucy now._

_No, _he protested weakly. _No, I mustn't._

_She wants you. Take her._

_No..._

A scream tore through the house, and Strom leaped to his feet, his mind racing to the terrible conclusion. Koss had found her, was taking her, taking her away from him! A growl was forced from his throat as he ripped open the door and bounded back down the stairs. He would protect his Lucy if it was the last thing he did in this universe!

The scene that met his eyes made green cloud the edges of his vision: a blanket ripped in half, lying on the floor of the living room, a spot of green blood on the couch, an overturned chair, Lucy's bowl shattered on the kitchen floor, its contents a puddle oozing from the wreckage. The door hanging open on its hinges, swaying in the cold late autumn wind.

Another scream pierced the air outside, and Strom ran after it, the beast forcing him to sprint, the last scraps of logic available to him praying she wasn't hurt, that it wasn't too late. If Koss forced her...or raped her mind again...

He wouldn't have it! He would kill the bastard for doing this to Lucy! He would kill him for Lucy!

There was a path leading into the woods right outside the house, but it split off into several other trails as it wound deeper into the woods. Strom saw footprints in the mud, and he followed them, knowing they were right because of the skid marks alongside them (Lucy was struggling against him, and the beast took a moment to purr with pride), and where the footprints faded, where there was exposed stone or grass, he knew the right path by scent...her scent...

He could almost smell her fear lingering in the air as he stumbled into a clear, flat space, and he growled in anger when he heard her scream. There was a tiny cabin in the middle of the clearing. Koss was holding Lucy there, intended to purge the fever with her there.

No!he growled in his mind. That was unacceptable! Lucy was _his, his alone_!

He ran up to the cabin and started kicking down the door.

_Hold on, Lucy_, he thought, as if she could hear his words. _I will not desert you._

…

Koss locked the door and pushed Lucy up against the wall, growling in anger at her defiance. If that other male had not come along, Lucy would not be putting up a fight. She would be welcoming him with open arms, not struggling against him! He growled again when he ripped off her sweater and saw tiny red teeth marks on her neck, a light mark...it wasn't his..._he _had bitten her, had tried to claim her. Koss wouldn't have it!

He sunk his teeth into that mark, blotting it out with a claim of his own, and he trailed his lips along her shoulder bit her again when she screamed. He pulled back, perversely fascinated with the trail of her red blood that he had left behind, and in a sadistic kind of way, he found it lovely.

He covered her mouth with his and forced a harsh kiss on her, prying her lips open with his tongue. His fingers, on the other hand, sneaked beneath the hem of her pants; he wanted her relaxed, aroused for him, not screaming and crying as she was now. The tips of his two fingers teased her, stroking and toying with her, and she whimpered into his mouth, still struggling against him.

"You're mine now," he growled against her lips, teasing her harder. "You might as well get used to it...we'll have a little fun, then I'll get rid of all those painful memories of Daddy...you won't have to worry about him any more, Lucy, my love..."

"You killed him," she hissed, and she bit his bottom lip when he went to kiss her again.

"Don't worry about your dear old father," Koss purred, lifting his free hand to caress her face, trailing his fingers with a feather-light touch over her psi points. "You'll forget about him soon enough..."

"You _bastard_!" she screamed, struggling harder, but he pinned her back against the wall with ease.

"There's no way you can resist me, _a'duna_," he said softly. "I must ask you to relax, or this will get _very _painful for you."

"Bastard!" she screamed. "Strom! _Strom_!"

"Don't you _ever _say his name again!" he growled, scratching his nails down her face, drawing thin lines of blood. "You are _my _mate!"

"_No_," she growled back at him. "I will _never _be yours."

As if to accentuate her statement, there came a banging at the door, as if someone were trying to break in. Koss growled and let Lucy go, but she did not take the opportunity to try and run, or to fight him. She slid to the floor, her cheeks stained with tears, and Koss straightened when the door flew open.

The other male, the one he had intended to kill in her dreams, was standing there, his eyes blazing with fury, and Koss realized that this scrawny doctor was deep in fever, and that he was very angry. But Koss wasn't extremely concerned with this. The delay was infuriating, but he would dispatch all rivals and get back to Lucy afterward. What was necessary was never unwise, so someone said. Koss couldn't remember now.

"Strom," Lucy whimpered, and the doctor glanced down at her for a moment. "Help me, please..."

The doctor's eyes grew hard as he turned back to Koss, and keeping his eyes on him, the other male knelt by her side.

"Are you calling the challenge, Lucy? Ask me to fight him for you, and I will."

"Do it, please..." she whispered. "_Kal-if-fee._"

Koss growled, but Strom seemed set on fighting. _Fine_, he thought to himself. If it was a fight she wanted, a fight she would get. He would kill Strom and couldn't be held accountable for his demise, and Lucy would be indisputably his. There was no way he could lose.

"Then we will fight, my dear."

…

Strom did not wait for Koss to make the first move as they circled each other, as they sized each other up. His rival had broad shoulders and strong arms, but Strom was nimble, and in any case, the doctor was no stranger to this fight. He had previously fought and won a _kal-if-fee _match for she who had been his wife, but when the fight was over and his head cleared, he decided to release her, knowing she would never be happy with him. So he had let her go, knowing it was the logical thing to do.

He let fury drive him as he charged his opponent, tackling him and pinning him to the ground. Strom raised his fists and punched Koss hard in the face before he could recover from the blow, and with an animal cry, he kept going for as long as he could. He punched again, then broke his nose with an upward blow, then jabbed the heel of his hand into the bastard's throat. He used all his weight to keep Koss under him, and when his opponent growled and tried to buck him off, Strom leaped to his feet and kicked Koss in the face, forcing the man's head back with an sickening snap.

Koss, it seemed, wasn't as punch drunk as Strom expected, as he recovered quickly from the blow and tried to charge Strom again, and the doctor didn't step out of the way quickly enough. He found himself under the murderer, staring up at his wild eyes, and Koss had enough sense to try and pin the doctor's legs. But Strom rolled, kicking and scratching to distract him, and he managed to move his opponent's heavy body just enough to slip out from under him. But Strom wasn't quick enough to leap back to his feet. Koss came at him with a powerful blow to his chest, and the doctor was forced to take a step back to subdue the pain and refocus on his goal.

Koss, sensing an advantage, moved with Strom, delivering a powerful punch to the doctor's nose. He heard it crunch and felt a burst of pain, but the sight of Lucy's neck smeared with blood, her cheeks stained with tears, was enough to drive him forward again. And it wasn't just Lucy he was fighting for. He had seen the post-mortum photographs of all of Koss' victims, most of their bodies burned to a crisp, burned beyond recognition, only identifiable by dental records.

Koss reared his hand back for another blow, but when he aimed his punch, Strom caught his hand and pushed back, digging his heels into the dirt. _Adeline Seeley_...

His opponent narrowed his eyes and growled, but Strom would not be daunted. Koss wasn't bracing himself for any impact, simply poised to strike and not defend. He would regret that soon. _Sunni Hudon..._

Strom planted his left leg firmly into the dirt, then swung his other leg around Koss' legs, hitting him in the back of his knees, making the man's knees give out beneath him. _Charlotte Kraemer..._

Before Koss was even on the ground, Strom delivered another sharp blow to his nose, sending the man reeling back onto the ground. _Abigail Hembrow..._

Strom pounced, but Koss had managed to roll over, taking Strom's attack with his back turned to him, keeping his organs and face shielded as he tried to roll over again. Strom growled and took a fistful of Koss' hair, then tugged with all his might, trying to expose the murderer's face. _Fae McManon_...

Koss roared and punched Strom back with a quick blow to the doctor's face, and he was knocked back into the dirt. He could feel the pain clearly in his nose and feel blood dripping down his face, but he ignored it, suppressed it. He had to win this fight. He could not lose. _Mai Kitano..._

Strom kicked Koss in the face when he turned around and tried to get up, and the murderer was once again down in the dirt, stunned. The doctor wasted no time in tackling him again, ramming his elbow into the bastard's stomach, then elbow-smashing his chin. _Victoria Elwood..._

Koss yelled out a curse in a Vulcan dialect Strom wasn't familiar with, but the doctor ignored it and held the man's neck and head with his hands. He stared down at the madman's eyes, now filled with fear, and he savored his moment of victory.

"_Die, you bastard_," Strom growled in Koss' face, and with a sickening snap, the murderer's body went limp, and Strom stared down at his opponent, the fever finally purged, his victory certain. The doctor stood up slowly, nudging his body to make sure he was dead, and just to be sure, he brought his shoe down violently into Koss' throat. There was an automatic jerking to that, but Strom could tell...the bastard was dead.

Strom gathered some of the blood and saliva in his mouth, and, staring down in disgust at the man, spat on him. Then he walked away, back to the house where Lucy was waiting.


	19. Gentle

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and Strom and Gabriel&Max), maba7x, BelladonnasMom, 09sasha, and dinopoodle for reviewing! You're all super awesome!**_

Sovak followed Soval, Oratt, and several members of the Vulcan security force posted in the area, following a tricorder (held by the doctor), trying to find the source of the screams. Oratt, Soval and Sovak were already almost to the house when they got the call that the killer was here, that they needed to come as quickly as possible to find and save Lucy.

Dr. Strom, it seemed, had been in regular contact with Yuris, a doctor who, at the Inter-species Medical Exchange Conference, had been dismissed for being a melder. Strom had sent him some data, new cortical scans done on Lucy whilst she was recovering from a debilitating nightmare, and Yuris had responded this morning, saying that in his opinion, Lucy was bonded to a Vulcan male.

Dr. Oratt, who was in San Francisco (the reasons escaped Sorak, but apparently he was here to brief Vulcan doctors on some change of protocol), looked over the data and was forced to concede: Lucy was bonded to a Vulcan male. They assumed that when her assailant had forced a meld on her, he had gone further and initiated a marriage bond, perhaps as insurance for his impending Time.

They came upon a clearing, in the middle of which was a small cabin, and Oratt informed them that a human was in the cabin. There were two Vulcan signatures further north in another clearing, but their main priority was Lucy. Soval sent a few of the security forces toward the Vulcan biosigns, and two stayed behind with the doctor and the ambassador's aide. They headed toward the cabin, and one of the guards carefully opened the door.

There was no trap waiting for them, so they all filed in and looked around for Lucy. Oratt found her first, huddled in a corner, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her shirt was in tatters on the floor, and one of her bra straps had been torn off as well. Two deep, bleeding bite marks still oozed blood at her shoulder, and she was staring straight ahead, her eyes unfocused, her cheeks stained with tears. More tears were silently coursing down her cheeks, and when Oratt tried to kneel down and touch her, she lashed out, swiping her hand blindly at him and screaming. The doctor tried again and managed to take a gentle hold of her shoulder, but Lucy began sobbing loudly, begging him to let her go.

The sound of that made Sorak's heart clench in anger, and he turned away and left the cabin, lest he run out towards the two Vulcan biosigns and find the worthless bastard who did this to a poor, defenseless human girl. Well, not a girl anymore. She was showing the signs of womanhood, in her waist, in her thighs, her hips, her breasts...she was no longer a girl, perhaps something her assailant had noticed when he first saw her and decided to take her for himself. The thought sickened Sorak...

Two of the security officers that Soval had sent toward the Vulcan biosigns came back through the trees, and Dr. Strom was following them. Sorak could see it in the doctor's eyes, and it was amazing that he had hidden it from the ambassador and his superiors for so long. The man had just been through _pon farr_, had presumably fought _kal-if-fee_, and as evidenced by the fact that he was alive (bruised and battered, but alive), he had won.

Sorak walked toward him, relieved that Lucy's assailant was dead. "Doctor?"

Strom's eyes blazed for a moment, but once he saw that the aide meant him no harm, he relaxed a fraction. "Lucy?"

"She's inside. She won't let Dr. Oratt touch her."

Strom's eyes hardened, and he entered the cabin quickly, Sorak at his heels. Lucy burst into earnest tears when she saw the newcomer, and Strom went straight to her, ignoring Oratt's questions and Soval's inquiring stare. He knelt down by Lucy and stroked her hair, and she calmed down, leaning into his touch.

"I was scared for you," she whimpered. "Is he dead?"

"Yes, Lucy, he is dead," the doctor said gently, and with that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the door. Oratt looked like he might protest and try and keep Strom from leaving, but seemed to think better of it.

Lucy seemed perfectly content in the doctor's arms, and it warmed his heart to see her bury herself deeper into Strom's dirt-encrusted shirt. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let the tears flow down her cheek, and Sorak could hear the doctor whisper comforting things to her in Vulcan.

Gabriel Hardister's last words came rushing back to him, and his words concerning Lucy made sense now.

"_And Lucy...It's ok if she marries him. He's a good man...Mina said Strom cares for her...tell Strom to look after my daughter and to find the bastard..."_

The tender and careful way Strom was holding his charge made it obvious to Sorak that he cared deeply for Lucy, more than a doctor concerned for a patient. With the fever slowly crawling to all corners of his brain, his care for his patient most likely had developed into something more intimate, and judging by Lucy's reactions to him, that intimacy was welcomed and returned in kind. Sorak had been present when L'Vek's condition had gotten to that point, and he had been in the lobby of the embassy when the human woman, Ms. Sadir, had walked in with the adviser, leaning heavily on him despite everything she had endured. Ms. Sadir had looked contented, though thoroughly exhausted, and it appeared Lucy felt the same way about Strom. Sorak wondered briefly if there had been any intimacy between the two, but decided that it was none of his business. Strom cared for Lucy, Lucy was in love with Strom, and Sorak could only hope that they could move past their cultural differences and offer each other a life of happiness.

They reached the house and witnessed the destruction of Koss' break-in, but Strom ignored it all and took Lucy upstairs, presumably to see to her injuries and get her cleaned up. That kind of focused devotion made Sorak even surer that Strom was in love with the young woman, and he frowned slightly when he saw Oratt scowling after the two as Strom climbed the stairs. But he didn't think any more of it. There were other things to attend to.

The security officers who had continued on to where Strom and Koss had fought returned, and Soval ordered them to take Koss' body to Starfleet Medical for examination. They obeyed and left, and then Sorak came forward.

"If I may, Osu, the girl's mother is at her home. Shall I go and fetch her? It would most likely be unwise for Ms. Hardister to travel...she looked very...disturbed. I do not blame her, considering all she has endured."

Soval sighed and nodded. "Then, Sorak, fetch Mrs. Hardister. I assume she has been informed of her husband's death?"

"Yes, Earth authorities took on that sad duty. Shall I leave now?"

Soval muttered an affirmative. "The two of them may stay here until tomorrow. I will have security continue to guard the house, and their head can inform Earth officials that the murderer has been killed and no longer poses a threat to Earth...or its innocent women."

Sorak shook his head in agreement. "So many of them dead...perhaps their families would benefit from meeting each other, and walking through the grieving process together."

The ambassador seemed pensive. "You seem to have more insight into human culture than me, my friend. Yes, I think their families would benefit from that. Once you have fetched Mrs. Hardister, please contact their families and arrange a meeting."

Sorak nodded and departed.

…

Strom carefully placed Lucy on the edge of the tub and started the water, and while the tub was filling up, he turned his attention to the bite marks on her shoulder and her destroyed undergarment. He swallowed thickly, debating with himself as to if he should remove it, knowing that the remnants of fever still flowed in his blood, that he may yet have a little bit of his charge before the fever was gone completely.

He tore his gaze away from the tattered bra and looked down at the clothes in her hands. They had made a stop at her room to fetch her some clean clothes, and a bra was not included. She would go straight to bed once he had her cleaned up and healed of her wounds. He noticed the scratches on her face, and he dug through his medkit until he found his dermal regenerator. He ran it over the scratches, watching them disappear, smiling ever so slightly at the sight of her soft, rounded cheek returned to normal.

The bath was half-full now, and he turned off the water and grabbed some soap. He bid his charge to strip and sit in the tub facing away from him, and he averted his eyes as she obeyed him. Once she was sitting in the tub, he sat down on the edge of the tub and rubbed the soap over the bite marks that Koss had made. Her creamy flesh was soft beneath his fingers as he held her steady, and she leaned her head back into his bare chest (he had torn off his muddy shirt and discarded it in his room), tears streaming down her newly-healed cheeks.

"Am I causing you discomfort?" he asked quietly, focusing his gaze on her shoulder. "If so..."

"No," she croaked. "I'm sad, and still scared...that's all."

He paused for a moment as he continued to clean her shoulder. "There is no reason to fear, Lucy. I will not let anything befall you."

She gasped as the lather built up, and he cupped some of the hot water in his hands and poured it over her wound, removing the soap and leaving her wound raw and exposed. He dried it carefully, then gently ran the regenerator over the scars, erasing them from her skin.

He let her lean forward in the water and wash her hair, and he could not tear his eyes away from the beautiful expanse of her back left exposed to his gaze. Koss had erased his mark with two of his own, and Strom had in turn erased them using medical means...but he could not deny the urge to mark her again as she tossed back her hair, squeezing it to rid it of as much water as she could. He handed her a towel and turned away as she rose from the tub and dried her hair, and he passed back each article of clothing until she was decent.

"Now you."

Strom turned and frowned at her, but she took the regenerator from him and ran it deftly over a bruise he didn't even realize was on his cheek.

"You can use that water. I won't look." Instead of flirtatious, she sounded incredibly child-like, and she blushed and made to move past him. But he caught her arm and scooped her up again, relishing her clean smell, and he carried her back to her room and laid her on the bed.

"I will do as you request, Lucy," he said gently. "It is illogical to waste that water."

She offered him a tiny smile. "Exactly."

"Now go to sleep. Vulcan security will continue to guard the house until you return home, and I will be in my room if you need me." He turned away, prepared to leave.

"Strom?" she whispered, and he turned to her. "Doctor?"

He closed his eyes briefly and sat by her, stroking her damp hair. "Yes, Lucy?"

"Please don't leave me in here alone. Not tonight."

"Your mother will be here soon. She will stay with you. It is inappropriate for Dr. Strom to stay in your room, Ms. Hardister."

Strom jumped up and twisted around to face Oratt, who was standing in the doorway, an extremely displeased expression on his face. Yet strangely, Strom felt no fear in the face of his superior. He was taking care of Lucy, as was his job, and if Oratt did not like it...there was a human phrase, 'he could shove it'. Strom was not familiar with the meaning of the phrase, but it seemed appropriate for the situation.

He turned back to Lucy and brushed some damp strands of hair out of her face. "I'll only be a little while, and then I will sit in here with you until your mother comes."

"Ok," she whispered, her fearful gaze lingering on Oratt.

"_Go to sleep, little Lucy,_" he whispered to her in Vulcan, and her eyes drooped and closed. For once in three months, she would not be under _his_ influence, but that did not guarantee that she would not be plagued by nightmares.

He stood and backed away from her a few steps, watching her relax into a deep slumber, then turned and faced Oratt. He followed his superior out into the hallway and closed the door behind him, and Oratt rounded on him with a noticeable scowl.

"When I assigned you to the girl, I was under the impression you would conduct yourself with decorum. It appears I was wrong." The elder physician's voice was cold, like the biting autumn wind outside. Strom straightened.

"In what way have I displeased you, Osu?"

Oratt's eyes hardened. "You take too many liberties with that girl. You fought _kal-if-fee _for her? A human? Do you realize what she is to you now?"

Strom shook his head. "Considering that she was inducted into the darkest realms of our society by force, I was under the impression that she would not be held to our standards. She is my patient, Oratt."

"You fought _kal-if-fee_, and I cannot ignore the implications of your behavior toward her. I should arrange a disciplinary hearing for this, Strom."

Strom's gaze hardened as he stepped closer to Oratt, closer than what was acceptable. He narrowed his eyes at his superior. "I fought _kal-if-fee _to help a woman who needed my help. I do not regret it. She is free of him, free to live her life as she chooses," he growled. "Again, I say...I did not believe we were going to hold her to the standards of our people."

He turned to re-enter the room, but Oratt's cold command stopped him. "You should release her, Strom. It is disagreeable to think of you stuck with a childish little human girl as a wife. These humans are all immature and-"

Oratt never got to finish the sentence, because Strom raised his hand and slapped him across the face as hard as he could, and his superior stumbled a little before straightening and looking back at him, the beginnings of anger blazing in his brown eyes.

"You will recall, Oratt, that I am still coming down from the fever. I cannot be held accountable for my actions for another two weeks, I would suggest that you _watch your tongue._"

Oratt opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it and stormed off down the stairs, his robes flaring out behind him. Strom watched him go, his blood boiling in ire, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself, going back into the room to sit with Lucy.

She was asleep when he sat on the side of the bed, and he reached out and gently stroked her still-damp hair, looping a strand of it around his finger, fascinated at how it seemed to curl before his eyes. She was the loveliest creature he had ever laid eyes on, and he would be extremely fortunate to have her as his wife, but...she was still so young, and still hurting. And maybe when the fever passed completely he would look back on this day with shame. He did not want to turn into the monster he had fought against whilst falling into the flames. He did not want to subject her to that pain, that horror, after all Koss had put her through.

A tear streamed down his cheek as he stroked her face with two fingers. By Vulcan custom, she was now his, but...perhaps it would be best to let her go. She had a life to live, he was an old doctor with nothing of worth to offer her. He had the means to care for her, certainly, as he was paid well for his work, but she deserved better than him. She deserved something more.

Another tear, then another followed the first. _I love her_, the beast whispered. _But I have to let her go_, the logical side of him countered. _Letting her live her life as it should be lived...if I love her, I will do this. Because I love her, I will do this. I will let her go._

_And if it turns out that you were the man she had been waiting for all her life? _the beast growled, its possessive nature still digging into him.

Then I will welcome her with open arms, he resolved. But I will let her continue her education, her pursuit of her career. I will leave that choice in her hands.

Strom leaned down and kissed her forehead, his two fingers finding hers and wrapping around them.

_Goodbye, _a'duna, he whispered in his mind to her. _If you need me...find me, and I will be the best man I can be for you. Until then...goodbye._


	20. Resolute

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and Sorak – hi, welcome to the review page!), makaem, 09sasha, T'Sara, maba7x, and the anon reviewer for your support! You guys are all awesome!**_

_**A/N: The most common comment I got for the last chapter was "Don't break them up, put them together!" Well, well, well, dear reader, look for the sequel to this work coming soon. **_

Sorak landed the flitter with practiced expertise in the street in front of the Hardister household. Several flitters and aircars were parked in the driveway and some in the yard, and two had already taken up space in the street. The Hardister family had gathered at this house, and three Earth authorities (police, as they were called here) were sitting on the front porch, talking amongst themselves in quiet voices. When they saw him approaching, they all jumped to their feet, and one pointed his weapon at him.

Sorak raised his hands with his palms toward them in a universal sign of non-aggression. "I am not here to harm you, I am here to deliver a message to the lady of the house."

The oldest policeman, one of the two who did not draw their weapons, nodded. "Relax, Breckenridge, he's not the perp." The young man who had pointed his weapon at Sorak relaxed and lowered the phase pistol, and the oldest policeman came forward.

"You want to deliver a message to the misses, eh?" The man had an accent Sorak recognized as "Jersey". "What's the word?"

Sorak sighed. "The murderer has been killed and Lucy is safe. Her mother is needed at that house. The danger has passed, so I volunteered to come here and fetch Mrs. Hardister."

The youngest man let out a whoop of victory, and the other two relaxed considerably. "About damn time," the third man muttered to himself, in a "Southern" accent. Sorak simply quirked an eyebrow.

"May I go in?"

The older policeman nodded and stepped aside. "Good work, Vulcan."

Sorak raised both brows and nodded, then entered the house. At least thirty people were huddled in small groups, talking quietly, some whispering, some stunned into silence. He walked up to a woman who looked remarkably like Mina Hardister (only several years younger) and bowed his head in greeting.

"Where is Mrs. Hardister?"

"Who's asking?" the woman demanding, eying him suspiciously.

"I am Sorak, Ambassador Soval's aide. I've come to collect Mrs. Hardister and take her to her daughter."

The woman paled. "Lucy? Dear God, please say she's ok."

"She is...traumatized, but still alive. And I am confident that with the proper aid, she can make a full recovery."

There was a collective sigh of relief (everyone else had stopped talking and listened in to their exchange), and the woman nodded.

"Mina's this way."

She led him down a hallway, then knocked softly on the door at the end. "Mom, a Vulcan is here to speak to Mina," she said, and the door opened a few moments later. The woman went back to the gathering room, and Sorak stepped forward.

"Greetings, I am Sorak," he said softly. He paused. "I grieve with thee."

"What would a Vulcan know about grief?" the woman's mother asked derisively.

"More than you know, T'Sai," he said honestly. "May I see Mrs. Hardister?"

The old woman sighed. "If my daughter will see you, then yes."

She went back into the room and he heard soft talking, and then the old woman reemerged.

"You have news about Lucy?"

He nodded solemnly, and Mina's mother led him into the bedroom.

Her mother's eyes had been rimmed red with tears, but Mina's eyes were clear, her expression numb. She was staring at the wall with no expression of anger or grief or hurt or worry on her face. She was blank, emotionless...it was disturbing. Never again would he listen to anyone chastise the humans for their erratic emotions. To see them without them was disconcerting and made him feel ill inside.

"T'Sai?" he asked softly. "May I sit with you?"

She nodded, not looking at him, and he sat at her side. "I suppose my daughter is dead too?" No tears stained her cheeks, and her jaw was set firmly.

"No," Sorak replied, "your daughter is safe. Lucy is waiting for you at the house she and Dr. Strom stayed in. I was sent to collect you and take you there, if that is agreeable to you?"

She finally looked at him, and he thought he saw relief flash across her eyes before she frowned. "Ok," she breathed. "I'll go."

"Mina, your family-" the older woman started.

"-Can wait a day or two!" Mina said, her voice breaking. "Dear sweet Lord Almighty, can I get some peace and quiet in this house? I want to be left alone with my children and my grief! Is that too much to ask, Mom?"

The older woman frowned, then left the room. Sorak could hear her talking to the guests, and the door opened and closed a few times as people said their farewells and departed the house.

…

She was silent, still so silent as Sorak flew the flitter deeper into the mountains. He did not want to press her or force her to talk, but her still-numb expression was still making him uneasy.

"I wasn't sure whether or not to bring this to your attention," he said gently, and she looked at him with a bland expression, "but I was with your husband when he died."

Her expression faltered, and she frowned. "What?" she breathed.

"Yes, Mrs. Hardister...I tried to save him, but...it was too late. He did tell me to deliver a few messages."

She stared at him with an almost angry expression. "Well, out with it!"

He blinked rapidly a few times at her harsh tone, and her angry expression melted into shame. "I'm sorry, sir, but I..." Her voice cracked, but she swallowed thickly and set her jaw again. "What did he say?"

"He said he loves you very much, and that he was sorry for everything."

There were several beats of silence where she stared straight ahead, and then he saw it. Tears rolling down her cheeks, and finally her lips parted, and a strangled cry poured forth from her lips. She buried her head in her hands, and he carefully placed his hand on her shoulder, switching the flitter to autopilot so he could concentrate on the woman beside him.

"Mrs. Hardister, I grieve with thee. I do not know how to help you or comfort you...but I can do _anything _for you to ease your pain-"

His words died in his throat as her hand found his and she squeezed with all her might, and the sudden action caught him off guard. He could feel her raging grief, her anger, her confusion, her guilt, whirling around inside her like a lightning storm. He hastily constructed his mental barriers, but he let them down enough to feed her calm and peace.

She did not release his hand, and he stared at their hands, entwined, joined, together, and he felt beneath her raging emotions a strong devotion to her husband and children, and a great well of love and affection. It stunned him, and he could feel the tips of his ears burn a little as the beast opened one eye and sniffed the air, curious about this devotion and love and affection she held inside her.

_No, Sorak, _he chided himself vehemently. _She was just recently widowed, and it is highly inappropriate for you to think that way about her! Remember your discipline and your decorum!_

He breathed in and banished the curiosity, but it stayed, subdued, in the darkest depths of his being. He would explore it and cast it out later, but for the moment, he squeezed her hand back and let her hold on to him as her world as she knew it changed forever.

…

Strom sighed as he walked side by side with Lucy to the waiting shuttle. Oratt had not been able to punish him with a hearing for his actions, but Strom knew he was being punished. He was being forcibly recalled to Vulcan, with no appeals, and he had no choice but to trudge to the shuttle and bid his little Lucy goodbye.

_She's not yours! _his logical side chided, but he simply sighed again and tried not to cry. He had felt rather depressed since the news of his recall reached his ears, but he put on a brave face for the remaining Hardisters and had graciously thanked Mrs. Hardister for hosting him, and had told her that her husband's memory would not be forgotten, not by him in any case. He grieved with her and Lucy, and Arturo, but mostly with Lucy, who had lost a father and had a twisted bond forced upon her. No matter what Oratt said, he would never regret fighting an honorable fight for Lucy.

"So you'll write to me, right?" Lucy murmured as they approached the shuttle. He glanced at her and knew she wasn't taking no for an answer.

He drew a PADD from his robes (Oratt had donned them for their departure, and Strom thought it might be best to follow his lead, though he did not particularly want to wear them) and tapped it, and it connected with hers, giving him her net address. He stared at it and had it memorized within five seconds, and he looked up at her.

"You're really leaving," she said, her voice heavy, disappointed..._she doesn't want you to leave_, the beast purred, waking from its drowsing state deep in the cave to add that comment.

_Hush_, he chided himself. _Don't dwell on that._

"Yes," he said with finality, lightly touching her shoulder. "Though...your presence will be...keenly felt."

"And yours," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. He could feel the familiar tears building behind his eyes, but he blinked them away and delved into his controls to steady himself.

"Doctor!" Oratt called harshly, breaking the moment. Strom turned his head toward him, but Lucy released his hand and placed it on his cheek, turning him back to face her.

"You have three years, _ashaya_. Three years to come back and find me. Any more than that, and I will find you. I want an answer, doctor, not your doubts. Until then...my love."

He breathed in sharply, lifting her chin, desperately wanting to kiss her, but he turned again at Oratt's impatient summons.

She pulled him roughly back to her and sealed her lips over his, kissing him furiously, deeply, desperately. He could not pull away. He could not deny her this, deny _himself _this. It was pain and pleasure and fire and the chill of another relationship ended, but the flame flickering in her eyes gave him hope.

"Three years. Any more..." She smiled wickedly, and he kissed her one more time on the forehead before she bolted off to the house. He thought he had seen tears in her hazel eyes...

Oratt could no longer be ignored, so Strom boarded the shuttle and settled himself down for some heavy meditation.

…

He set his bag down in his quarters on the Vulcan ship, sighing as he was alone again, but he refused to let the tears tumbled down his cheeks. He blinked them away and set his jaw, determined to return to logic and discipline and not let the beast win over him. It was dangerous to give in to these emotions, and he did not want to live dangerously.

He laid down, suddenly overcome with exhaustion from his experiences, but he sat up when he heard a scratching and mewling sound coming from his bag. He got out of bed and unzipped the bag, and Mousse leaped out and stared up at him with its bright yellow eyes, mewling in protest of its long confinement.

It was only when Strom searched his bag (thinking Truffle might have sneaked in as well) that he found a PADD addressed to him, and a shirt that was not his on the top of his things. He sat down on the bed, and the kitten leaped into his lap, and he absentmindedly petted it while he read the PADD.

_My dearest Strom,_

_Until I heal, I know you won't accept all that I am and all that I have to offer. Like I told you, you have three years. Until you find me again, here is Mousse to give you the love and devotion I want to give to you. Take care of him for me, and think of me, and know that here, still stuck on Earth without you, I'm still thinking of you._

_Write to me, and feed Mousse what you'd give a _sehlat_, only in a smaller portion. He'll need a litterbox, but sand from the desert should do just fine. Give him water every day if you can._

_P.S. I stole one of your shirts. That shirt you found is mine, and you're free to do with it what you will. Give Mousse a scratch behind his ears for me. I knew he'd mewl and pine for you when you left, so here he is. I hope that until we find each other again, he provides you with some decent company._

_Keep me in your thoughts, and know that I love you, more than I've ever loved a man in my life. So don't forget your Lucy, dutifully waiting for you here._

_All my love, and always yours,_

_Lucy_

Strom did not realize until he was done with her letter that there were tears streaming down his cheeks. He lifted her shirt like a precious artifact and buried his nose into it, inhaling the scent that lingered in the fibers. _Pumpkin pie spice...Lucy..._

He was tearing up again, but he swallowed it down. Three years...so be it. She needed time to heal and get her education and career started, but he would find her. He would make her his. After all, she had just declared it.

He had nothing to lose. When the timeframe was up, or before then if he could manage it...he would find her. _You are mine, little Lucy_, he thought to himself, inhaling her scent once more. _You are mine, now and always. _


End file.
